The Life Once Lived
by Carcanet
Summary: The Fellowship and some other characters were reborn into a new, modern world. They were unaware of the greatness they had achieved in their past lives, and the greatness that was soon to follow. A new evil arises, and they are summoned to defeat it...
1. Glimpses of a Dream

I have a story idea. I have no clue whether it has been done before, yet I'm pretty sure that it has been brought up a couple of times. So, basically the Fellowship and certain other characters have been reborn into a new timeline and a new world, perhaps a parallel universe. They are in a modern world, where technology is perpetually advancing. Swords, bows, and arrows are no longer used, but guns and words are the dominant weapons. They are unaware of the greatness of their past lives and the new greatness that follows in their heavily veiled destiny. Although they are identical to who they were in the times of yore, they are ignorant of all that they knew in the past. When a new evil comes, spreading darkness over the dimensions; they are summoned forth to vanquish it, yet they do not know how. Thus come two others who have long studied them and their legacies. They rekindle the old flames that once burned vigorously through the chambers of their hearts.  
  
Please do read the paragraph above from this. It has the basic summary of the outline of the story. Err... That was a bit redundant, wasn't it? Oh well, I suppose that it is all that I actually have. Please do not forget to write up a review for the story!  
  
The Life Once Lived  
  
Chapter1  
  
Glimpses of a Dream  
  
"What is happening Galbrannon?" cried an ethereal form of a striking women, her long, silver hair was dirtied by the flying ash and dirt. She ran towards man, who like her seemed otherworldly, yet fascinating, as the ground beneath them shook with a tremendous force. She staggered as a large tremor broke free, but the man, Galbrannon had caught her steadily.  
  
They were in a large, stone hall. The walls were crackling as lava began to seep in. The statues and lanterns began crashing to their demise. And in the front of the entire hall, on top of an altar, was an urn. The container was still, yet thin, spindling cracks began appearing on its shining surface.  
  
"Cenedril," He yelled to overcome the loud crashes, as the large hall that they were in began to crack and fall in places, as lava flowed freely, destroying what lay in its path, "It is the Enethui Rodon! He has broken free from his incarceration!" He held on to Cenedril tightly and shielded her from the obvious dangers.  
  
"What!" cried the woman, as she held on to Galbrannon, "How is that possible? The Enethui Rodon cannot escape its prison! It is too weak to be able to summon up that much power!" She screamed as a nearby statue fell some feet away from them, "The only thing that can give him enough power is if-" She halted herself, not believing what may have happened, "No, it is not possible!" Galbrannon gave her a grim nod, "No!!!" She began to sob uncontrollably.  
  
The urn suddenly shook violently, as its surface was riveted with cracks. The sound of nothing rang loudly and a blinding light filled their eyes. A burning sensation seared at their skin, as the deafening sound of explosion rattled their heads afterwards.  
  
Galbrannon found himself half-conscious, yet there was a large wound at his side, threatening to bring him to death. He looked up at the hall, only to find a vast openness and mounds of debris. He looked within his arms and found Cenedril. Her back was soaked in her own blood, with a metal stand lodged within it. Her face was contorted with agony, yet the same beauty remained, "Galbrannon, don't leave me..." she uttered her last words as she fell to the Land of Shadows.  
  
Galbrannon let out a cry of anguish and planted a soft kiss on her palling lips, but he was not through yet. He hoisted himself up, wincing in great pain. Galbrannon crawled over to a secret compartment, which had fortunately been left undamaged. He pulled out a white, wooden horn.  
  
He returned back to Cenedril and held her hand tightly. With the other one he clutched the horn tightly. He began muttering sacred, yet forgotten prayers in the old language. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he cast the horn down on the ground.  
  
As it hit the ground his body fell dead next to Cenedril's. When it broke a golden light shined forth, like a beacon into the thick blanket of the night. The light grew immensely until it covered the complete emptiness.  
  
Then it all vanished...

* * *

"Aaahhh!!!" yelled Aragorn as he shot from his bed, beads of sweat dripping down his face. He began breathing heavily to catch his breath. Pattering footsteps were heard outside his door and inside his room arrived three others.  
  
"Aragorn, what is wrong?" the eldest of the three, Elrond was his name. The other two, who were twins, slouched there groggily. Elrond crouched low to the shaken boy as the twins leaned on each other for support.  
  
"I... I had a strange dream," murmured Aragorn, visibly calming down. He ran his fingers through his disheveled black hair and shook his head to jostle his thoughts. Elrond sat on the side of his bed.  
  
"What sort of dream?" asked Elrond.  
  
"There was a male and a female," began Aragorn, recalling his dream, "They looked human, yet they didn't seem it. The man was called Galbrannon and the woman's was called Cenedril." Elrond's eyes bulged at the mention of those names, and the twins snapped their attention to the dreamer, yet Aragorn did not notice, "They were in some sort of hall or perhaps a temple. It was falling to ruin," He gulped, "They were saying something like, the Enethui Rodon breaking free from its prison. Then there was an explosion."  
  
Elrond nodded and the twins were now completely awake, "I see," His eyes flashed with a grave concern, "Quite an imagination you have there Estel," He chuckled weakly, the twins exchanged confused glances, pondering on their father's behavior, "I'm sure that it means nothing Aragorn," He patted him on the head, "Elladan, Elrohir, return to your room. You three must get ready for you schooling tomorrow."  
  
"Wait! There is-" began Aragorn, but Elrond cut him off.  
  
"It is alright Aragorn. You need not concern yourself any longer. It was merely a dream, a figment of your imagination. Go back to sleep," He exited the room shortly afterwards. Elladan and Elrohir shrugged and said their goodnights to Aragorn and they trudged out the door. Aragorn stared blankly, still rather shocked at his seemingly realistic reverie.  
  
Drowsiness flowed through his head, fogging up his senses. His head collapsed to his pillow and he slowly closed his eyes. Sleepiness was overcoming him steadily. His thoughts began dancing, dispersing as they swiveled into the dark abyss of his mind. Slowly he drifted off to sleep.  
  
And entered into a dreamless slumber...

* * *

"Aragorn! Aragorn! Wake up dear, little Estel!" cried a mocking, high-pitched voice, waking him from his slumber. He opened his eyes only to find another face merely inches away from his own. The face belonged to the younger of the twins, Elrohir.  
  
"Do not wake me up like that!" yelled Aragorn, pushing Elrohir from his face. Elrohir let out a mocking snicker as he staggered backwards, "Man, Elrohir! I cannot understand how Elladan manages to survive, living in the same room as you!"  
  
"What are you talking about?! You don't even know how horrible it is living and breathing in the same air as him!" protested Elrohir, while he was sniggering he bit into an apple he was conveniently carrying, "So, how'd you sleep last night, after you had your little dream?"  
  
Aragorn rose from his bed and put his feet on the floor. He let out a yawn and stretched his arms, "I slept great! I fell asleep right away after you guys left. And then of course, I wake up to find your ugly mug barely some inches from my face!" He walked to his clothes closet and pulled out the garb he would wear on this school day.  
  
"What are you talking about Estel?" said Elrohir as he fell on Aragorn's bed, "I am the handsome one!" He began fawning over his face.  
  
"Elrohir," Aragorn said in a blatantly sarcastic voice, "You're identical twins!"  
  
"Glad to see that you're still sharp as a golf ball!" disparaged the twin as he got up from Aragorn's bed and headed for the door, "Dad and Elladan are eating breakfast. Dad wants you to speed it up man! He says that we have to be at least thirty minutes early when we arrive there." He tousled the shorter boy's hair and with that he exited the room.  
  
Aragorn picked his clothes without much thought, he went inside his bathroom, took a quick shower, and carelessly put his clothes on. He went to a full-length mirror and studied himself thoroughly, scrutinizing every little detail.  
  
He was rather tall for his age. He had black hair that reached his shoulders. It was always tangled-looking, whenever he fixed his hair. His eyes were very deep. They could have been unreadable at times, yet during some moments, his eyes expressed so much meaning. His face was well-chiseled. His chin was prominent and his brow meaningful. His facial and physical features were quite impeccable. His limbs were long and sturdy. Aragorn smiled at himself and began striking a few poses in front of the mirror, knowing full well that Elladan and Elrohir would tease him mercilessly if the found out.  
  
Aragorn sighed and excused himself from the mirror. He had to leave for another grueling day of grade-grubbing and word-lashing...

* * *

A site came into view. It was made of brick and its outer walls were covered in spindling vines. There were plenty of other buildings beside it, yet it was in the center and it looked far older than the others. It was the school that they attended. The center building and some others beside it were known as the Luthien Tinuviel High School. The other buildings made up the junior high and preparatory schools.  
  
Elrond was the vice-principal of the school and one of the teachers as well. His subject was History, yet he substituted for some classes in Mathematics as well. The four exited the car and headed for the school building. They walked in silence, regarding this as just another school day of many more to come.  
  
Once they reached some distance from the building's doors, Elrond stopped them, "I say these lines every single day whenever we arrive at school," He smirked at their hopeful faces, wondering if he would stop lecturing them, "But," Their faces dropped, "I do not intend to stop..." Then he yammered on about his usual sermon, from proper conduct to school rules. In the end, he turned to the twins, who were trying to stay awake, "Elladan, Elrohir, meet me in my office before you eat lunch." They nodded and Elrond walked ahead of them to the school.  
  
The three loitered behind, "I really do wonder if he ever will stop with that talk," muttered Elladan, shoving his forcefully hands in his pockets as they trudged at a sluggish pace to the school.  
  
"At least we know why he always wants us this early in school," groaned Aragorn. Since he was the youngest of the three, he was in a grade lower than the twins. He wasn't the most popular one in his level, yet he wasn't a social outcast either.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir were very well-liked in their grade. They had gotten into plenty of trouble, playing practical jokes on students and teachers, pulling a few stunts at some very important events (A/N: They sound pretty much like another set of twins, wouldn't you say?). Yet they played well within their bounds, if not extending them a little bit. They walked deftly on the tight rope of detention and expulsion.  
  
They entered the huge building, "See you later guys," Aragorn waved goodbye, walking off in his own direction, off to find his friends. He went to his locker to deposit his things and he knew that at least one of his friends was bound to be there.  
  
"Hey Aragorn!" a voice yelled to him. He looked up only to see one of his close associates, Boromir, Son of Denethor, run up to him, "Dude, did you have to take your sweet time getting over here? I was stuck in this hellhole for an hour and a half now!"  
  
"So, you're saying that you're thrilled to see me?" Aragorn snickered, knowing that it would miff his friend. Boromir whacked him upside the head, not bothering to reply to Aragorn's mockery.  
  
Denethor was the son of Denethor, the School's Director. Denethor was probably as uptight as Elrond, and even stricter so. Boromir was a burly chap. He was as tall as Aragorn, but his build was more robust. He was a good-looking fellow, with lightly colored hair that was cut to where his shoulders were. He was rather popular with the ladies, since he was loud, outspoken, and at times a bit melodramatically poetic, unlike Aragorn, who remained aloof and unreachable.  
  
"Whatever man," muttered Boromir, the two continued walking aimlessly, "Hey, did you hear?" he began excitedly, remembering a fact, "My brother, he's going to be attending our high school in a few weeks."  
  
"Faramir?" inquired Aragorn, he knew the younger boy quite well. "I thought that he was still in junior high..."  
  
"Yes, well all of the squirt's teacher's say that the work they give him doesn't prove to be a challenge to him," shrugged Boromir, but Aragorn could tell that he was beaming with all the pride he had, "They say that he is ready for high school," Aragorn looked at him queerly, "Yes, I know that I am supposed to be jealous! But somehow I do not envy him. I mean, I'm proud that my little brother is talented for his age and that he'll be studying in the same building as me," Boromir looked troubled at that point, "Yet Father has hardly given it any word. He has only given Faramir a good job and some junk he bought for him."  
  
Boromir's brother and father had a rather unfavorable relationship. Faramir tried his hardest to be pleasing in the eyes of Denethor, thus excelling in his studies and following his father obediently, yet he was overshadowed by the greatness that his father saw in Boromir. Denethor paid Faramir slight comments, yet the praise he gave Boromir was boundless. But there was no animosity between the two brothers. They shared a great love for one another and an unbreakable loyalty as well.  
  
They continued talking about random topics. The halls of the high school were still rather bare, but there were already some students who cluttered the hallways, such as Grima Wormtongue and Sméagol.  
  
"Did you know that Eomer's uncle got him a new horse after tossing him a new car for no apparent reason? I mean, I'm pretty certain that Eomer loves horses, but his family's estate has more of those beasts than they have cars." said Boromir; the news had just popped into his head, for lack of anything else to talk about "He's calling the horse Firefoot or something like that, yet he refuses to let me see him!"  
  
"Well, you do know Eomer," muttered Aragorn, "He's very possessive, and slightly obsessive over anything dear to him... his horses, his cars, all his useless stuff, he's even possessive over his uncle and sister!"  
  
"Speaking of Eomer's sister," Boromir's voice turned sly, "I heard that his sister is transferring here."  
  
"Eowyn is transferring here?" Aragorn asked out of pure curiosity, keeping his voice monotone, "I thought that she studied in a private all-girls school. And besides, isn't she only in junior high level?"  
  
"Yes, but apparently Sir Theoden wrote a letter to my father and to the principal," who was Galadriel, "So, they allowed her to attend high school here," seeing no visible reaction from Aragorn, Boromir decided to rile him slightly, "Isn't Eowyn the one who has a crush on you? Or was she the Eowyn who proclaimed her love for you out loud, when she was seven years old, at Elrond's annual dinner party?"  
  
Aragorn stiffened noticeably, "Yes, she is," Boromir was suddenly in a wave of snickers, "She is a very nice girl actually," Aragorn said weakly, not wanting to give into Boromir's methods of annoying him, "And I am rather certain that she has gotten more sense knocked into her brain after all these years."  
  
"So you've actually seen her after that summer?" asked Boromir who recovered from his insane fit of giggles.  
  
"Well no," admitted Aragorn, "But I have written some letters to her and I have sent some emails as well. She is rather strong-minded in the issues that she believes in. I believe that she is quite intelligent actually."  
  
"Does she still seem infatuated with you?" Boromir asked with mock innocence.  
  
"Boromir!" yelled Aragorn, but he wasn't all that surprised at his friend's incredulous behavior. With knowledge that Boromir was waiting for an answer, he said, "Well, Eomer tells me that she talks quite a lot about me during mealtimes, but that is all!"  
  
"So, you have never actually, face-to-face, seen her?" Boromir prodded on for answers.  
  
"As I said awhile ago, I've been keeping contact with her through some letters and emails."  
  
"Yes, that's all well and good, but have you seen here?"  
  
"No, why?"  
  
Boromir let out a gruff grunt, "Well, someone told me, he visited the estate of Eomer and his family. He saw Eowyn and he said that she was hot!"  
  
"What? Who's hot?" a new voice entered the conversation. Aragorn and Boromir swiveled themselves around to see whom the voice belonged to. They stood rigid in their spots when they saw who it was.  
  
It was Eomer...  
  
It wasn't that they were not on friendly terms with Eomer. In fact, he was in their group of close friends. He was slightly shorter than Aragorn and Boromir, but he made up for it in great burliness. Eomer was very protective of his sister, which was probably the reason why he was relieved that she went to an all-girls school. If he had heard them talking about her in that manner, the two would be beaten alive. Eomer had rather dangerous connections.  
  
"Well? Who are you talking about?" he asked, not suspecting a thing going on. Aragorn visibly relaxed, a smirk forming on his lips, while Boromir's body was still rigid straight and the wheels in his head were busy trying to figure out a good reason.  
  
"You see Eomer.... Um...It's... Do you know...Err...?" Boromir stuttered ungracefully.  
  
"Oh, well Boromir was talking about your sister," Aragorn said matter-of-factly, "He said to me that he thinks Eowyn is really hot!" He smirked as he saw the look on his friends face. It was a mix of mock hurt and pure terror.  
  
"What?" Eomer's voice became cold and steel-like. He swiveled to Boromir dangerously, "Boromir, What do you think of my sister?" His voice was ominously low.  
  
"Now Aragorn," His voice was abnormally high and squeaky, "You deluded blatherskite! I never said that I thought that she was hot!" He gave a hollow laugh. Aragorn was stifling guffaws at his uneasiness. "It was that bloody Wormtongue I tell you! I heard that he's been spreading rumors around the campus that Eowyn is madly in love with him!"  
  
"WHAT?!" he was clearly pissed off, "WORMTONGUE!!!" He bellowed, his voice echoing through the halls. He stormed off to find the miserable cretin. Boromir let out a huge sigh of relief, while Aragorn was clearly laughing his head off.  
  
"Why did you do that dude?" hissed Boromir, when Eomer was out of earshot, "You know how insane Eomer gets when it comes to his sister? He would have killed me on the spot and hopefully mangle you a little bit!"  
  
"Oh come on! I was just poking a bit of fun at you! And besides, you can consider this payback for that little stunt you, Faramir, and Legolas pulled on me two weeks ago," Boromir's face was one of complete confusion, "You know, the one with the spark plugs and short circuiting!" The look on Boromir's face changed from confusion, to realization, to utter smugness.  
  
"Oh that stunt, you were talking about that stunt" murmured Boromir, stifling in all his giggles, "The idea wasn't mine! It was all Legolas and Faramir. All I did was the short circuiting!" protested Boromir, "Speaking of Legolas, where is he anyway?"  
  
"Probably in front of his vanity mirror brushing his hair," laughed Aragorn, Boromir joined in the snickering as well.  
  
"I'll have you know you lousy loutish laggard," a new, clearly insulted, voice, entered the conversation, "that my father kept me late. He was busy lecturing me on that prank we pulled on you some weeks ago!"  
  
"An appropriately accomplished alliteration, Legolas," laughed Boromir, "But seriously man, you have to admit that you really love your hair?" They greeted their friend with hard handshakes and fake punches.  
  
Legolas was a very good friend. He was rather tall and quite fetching, or so the ladies had said to them. He had long blonde hair that always seemed to be washed and conditioned. They had made a lot of jokes about the fact that he cared so much about his hair and that he spent hours in front of the vanity mirror, being well... vain.... But somewhere along the lines it had gotten rather old.  
  
"At least I have a sense of hygiene, unlike you two vagabonds," snapped Legolas, inserting a grunt, to prove his masculinity. The three had begun walking down the hall again. Their group of friends, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Eomer, and when he was there, Faramir, had a rather peculiar relationship. Somehow they were comfortable with all the insults and putdowns that were aimed and fired at them. They insulted each other frequently, yet no one really seemed to care. Compliments and insults were pretty much the same thing for the five of them.  
  
"Tell me Legolas," began Aragorn, stifling his snickers...  
  
"What is this 'hygiene,' which you speak of?"  
  
"Figures some commoners like you wouldn't take a bath unless bound, gagged, and knocked unconscious," Legolas sneered good-naturedly, "Speaking of a grubby little commoner... where is Eomer?"  
  
"Beating the crap out of Wormtongue," laughed Boromir.  
  
"Again?" asked Legolas, "What had he done now?"  
  
"Oh, he had become Boromir's scapegoat is all," replied Aragorn, as if it was nothing; "Boromir and I were speaking of him and then his sister. Boromir said something slightly out of line and Eomer was there to catch it... Pretty basic stuff, if you ask me."  
  
The four, or five if you wish, were extremely close friends. Aragorn had met Legolas a long time ago. Boromir and Faramir were brothers. Yet somehow, Eomer fit right into place. The five were different souls, yet kindred spirits. Each longed for acceptance and adventure, yet none lusted for glory.  
  
Glory was a side dish that came on the plate of destiny.

* * *

Aragorn was the in all likelihood the most aloof of the five. He did enjoy the company of his friends, yet he found solace in solitude. He did not mind getting his hands dirty and doing things on his own. He was very educated, after being raised by Elrond; he had to be, and spoke many tongues and knew of many foreign customs. His past was similar to a broken road. He traveled it straightforwardly, yet there were many empty gaps and uneven pieces, preventing him from the journey back. He knew little of his parents, only their names and their parents names before them. He was an excellent leader, he practiced marksmanship, and he had very keen senses. He sought out answers to his past, his dreams, and all that perplexed him.   
  
Legolas was slightly less complicated. He was the son of Thranduil, one of the richest men in the known world. It was even said that his father and he were descended from an ancient line of landed gentry, hence the vast estate and mounds of money. He was at times, theatrical and extremely lyrical, which helped him quite a lot with the ladies. He loved nature and all that breathed in the bittersweet fragrance of life. He enjoyed his studies, although not admitting it to his comrades. He was a skilled marksman, he practiced with a shooting rifle, and at times he went hawking with his father. The rich were allowed to have their eccentricity after all...  
  
Eomer was quite similar to Legolas. Although he himself had lost his parents, he had gotten to know them well enough to grieve at their deaths. His parents, Eomund and Theodwyn, were quite wealthy and had been very much respected in the community. He and his younger sister, Eowyn were sent to live with their uncle, Theoden, and his son, their cousin, Theodred. Eomer wasn't afraid to show his emotions, not that they consisted of anything sensitive. He was quick to rage, yet fast to forgiveness. He could be very logical at times, yet he usually played things by how he felt. He could be very overprotective, especially over his sister. He was fond of horses and slightly preferred them to cars.  
  
Boromir was a mix of both Aragorn and Eomer. He was born into a wealthy family as well. His father, Denethor, loved him with all the emotion in his heart. He was very much accepted by his family. He took leadership when necessary and he brought gratification to inflate his father by giving him awards of leadership, physical achievements, and satisfactory grades. He had a quick mind, yet he refused to apply himself completely into his studies. Boromir was more eloquent with his actions, than with his words. He had courage and determination, Denethor prided his son in that. He loved his younger brother Faramir very much, and he was not embarrassed by that note. Generally, everyone would assume that he had the perfect life...  
  
Faramir was a mix of all of them, yet altogether he had created a new persona. He was aloof like Aragorn, he was poetic like Legolas, he cared a high lot for his family like Eomer, and he wished for his father's approval like Boromir. His father had shown him affection, as little as it was. When he had accomplished something a monotone 'good job' or if he was lucky some sort of money bought reward. He was usually able to speak with his father, yet it seemed that Denethor had always paid more attention to Boromir. For as long as Faramir could remember, when Boromir had a problem and Denethor was locked in his study, Boromir was allowed to barge in and talk to his father. Apparently Faramir didn't have that liberty. Aside from that factor he was a rather good person. He got high grades and was talented with words and public speaking. Perhaps the one thing lacking in him was confidence...

* * *

They were stuck in their fifth class. It was Social Studies. They were discussing the different myths and legends, and past kingdoms and civilizations. They were all bored out of their wits. Their teacher was a short, stocky woman, with a gigantic mole on her neck. It wasn't very pleasing to stare at, but the attention it demanded was horrifying.  
  
Boromir and Eomer were currently talking...flirting with some girls who sat in front of them. Legolas was busy writing in some sort of notebook. And Aragorn was trying to pay attention to the teacher without having to look at her.  
  
The other students were similarly not paying attention, well not all of them... Gimli, a short, stocky student, was etching some symbols on his desk. Wormtongue was nursing his bruised skin, shooting Eomer glares every so often. Gollum was fidgeting restlessly in his seat. Sam, a short fellow, was had fallen asleep and was snoring softly. Frodo, another strangely short student, was on the verge of falling asleep, yet he forced himself to copy at least some notes down. Merry and Pippin; both were cousins to each other and stunted as well, seemed to be taking down notes as well, yet in truth they were plotting for their next great prank. Haldir looked very bored, but he copied notes down diligently.  
  
Aragorn could sense his friends not paying attention. This was how they operated. They wouldn't need to listen. They knew that they were smart enough. All they had to do was study up before a big test. But Aragorn did not want to tempt fate so boldly... He wanted to stay safe, although occasionally slacking off... Elrond demanded good grades.  
  
Their teacher, Lady Caspaius, was reciting from a book, the Journal of Porlas, who was an official who outlasted the civilization, through its birth and its fall, as the words and details began appearing on the large virtual blackboard, for the students to copy notes from. Yet no one really seemed interested...  
  
"...And so the Civilization of Perseimous had built its first foundations... The Civilization prospered immensely, with its center of trade and commerce, Kasati, and its world-renowned sea port, Novari. When its founder, Emperor Perseiminn, reached the nineteenth year of his rule, he soon realized that his people began to doubt him and his rule. They lost their faith in him, thus they lost their faith completely, for in Perseimous, there was no religion.  
  
"So, the Emperor, to solve this problem he read many books of ancient writing. There they stated a God, very dormant and very powerful. A great deal was required to awake the God. He needed a vast open space, a gigantic statue depicting the God in all his glory, yet it had to be made from feathers, a huge temple that worshipped his greatness, and a portal way to the World of the Dead.  
  
"The Emperor, although very wise, was very desperate as well. He cleared off a portion of his city, transferring all those buildings to the northern part of his Empire. Many were displeased, yet some had flourished in success. This task took four years His next task was to make the statue. He summoned all chicken breeders and bird keepers. He took all their feathers and began constructing the large statue required of them. The task was completed in twenty-three months. The temple was the next requirement. He used all the finest stones and all his finest architects and carpenters. He made use of semi-precious and precious stones. He used gold, silver, and dhalseer, a very precious stone which is found only in Perseiminn.  
  
"Dhalseer was a very treasured sort of stone. It had no use for sword making nor did it have any strength to be the basic structure of a building. They had learnt that lesson during the Fall of Hagya's Tower. She was the Emperor's spouse. Dhalseer is only used for titivation. Those royal, noble, and very wealthy adorned their clothing, jewelry, furnishings, and some use them for their inner walls.  
  
"Returning to Perseimous, Perseiminn's last challenge was to open a way to the World of the Dead. He researched on this subject for two years. Finding many ways, though many were either too inhumane or nearly impossible to accomplish, yet on the second year's seventh month's third week's fourth day, he found a way to accomplish it, yet he would not tell anyone on how, until a week after he had discovered means of how to open a portal.  
  
"On the day itself, he summoned forth all the beings in his empire. He climbed to the zenith of the cliff, which was opposite to the temple he had built, and spoke out loud to his people in their native tongue, which here in this book translates to, 'My dear Perseimions, I know that you have all suffered greatly, moving your homes, slaving for a gigantic temple, building a vast statue out of bird plumes, and yet I gave you no reason! So, here I stand now, speaking to you all, pardoning myself for all the wrongs I have committed. I have only asked for your sweat and blood, for you. You labored only for yourselves and you shall ultimately be rewarded in the end. For I have searched for a God for you! I have searched for one, to whom you can pray and instill your faith in. You may not always love the emperor to whom you serve, yet you shall always love your God, for he rewards those who are just, yet he punishes those who are unmerited. Everything you have given, shall be returned to you in a new, much better form. Yet, this God is not awakening yet, there is one final step.'  
  
"He began walking to the complete edge of the cliff's peak. He had a sickle in his hand, it was made of bone, yet it was mixed with gold and silver. He began to chant some ancient hymns to the God. Then he yelled, 'Awaken, God Arbalan!' Then he leapt into the open air, falling down from the cliff's peak. In mid-air and in the midst of all the cries and gasps, he swung the sickle at his throat. Red blood spouted from the base of his neck. The crimson wetness flowed down his wear of finery. Head and Body became divided. His body fell to the rocky, uneven ground, yet as soon as it had hit, a black smoke exploded from the ground, along with mounds of rock debris. The people were much too far to be affected though.   
  
"As the smoke cleared, a bright light was seen, shining up from the sky. From up beyond, a divide was made through the colorless clouds. An ethereal figure came drifting down from the rift. The figure was tall and built well. The figure, obviously a man, was clad all in white and his face was obscured by the blinding light, yet after some minutes the light cleared and his face was visible. He had very well-chiseled features, and was to put it plainly, extremely stunning. He raised his long arms up and spoke in a rich, regal voice, 'Perseimions, I have been awakened by the man who was your emperor! He relieved me from my sleep and requested me to be your God, to give your crops life, to guide over your children, to send the spirits of the dead to where they should lay rest! I am the God, Arbalan!'  
  
"The eruption of claps was explosive. In the open air of the field, the applause raged fiercely, as did the heaving sobs, rejoicing over their God, yet grieving over their Emperor. But then Arbalan spoke once more, 'Dear people do not despair over your Emperor! Although he has taken my place in the Eternal Sleep, so moved was I by his love for his people and his empire. Thus I rewarded him, for he has done an act of sacrifice. I have made him like me! He is now to be known as the Erui Rodon, the First Divinity. Perseiminn has become a Demi-God to you!'  
  
"Then the Emperor's wife, Empress Hagya, ran from the crowd into the space in front of Arbalan, and she fell on her knees on the rocky ground, 'Please, your Greatness, God Arbalan! Let me speak to my husband! He has left us so suddenly that we stand here now in shock! Please, Arbalan!' She begged so piteously that the people who praised, admired, and groveled to her were greatly perturbed. Her sons and daughters ran to her side and groveled to him as well. Soon the civilization's people followed as well.  
  
"The God looked shocked at her outburst, yet his expression was not angered, he had compassion etched on his striking face, 'My Lady Hagya, Perseiminn has become the Erui Rodon, the First Divinity. He is now the Idhui Rodon, the Sleeping Divinity, as he did take my place in the Eternal Rest, yet perhaps he may awake, be his will strong enough.' Then he tore his gaze from the queen and looked up towards from which he came from, 'Awaken, Perseiminn... Erui Rodon!'  
  
"Lightning struck the ground at the Perseimions feet, yet the weather remained normal and tranquil. There were no waves of rain, yet the lightning began striking the ground on which they stood upon incessantly. Yet after one particularly large bolt, a deafening crack was heard from above. A new rift between the clouds had opened next to the one of Arbalan. A new figure descended from above, yet it wasn't as luminous, nor was it that large. It was their Emperor, the Lord Perseiminn.  
  
"He arrived to them as he had left them...His face craggy, yet handsome, his eyes intimidating, yet affectionate... Yet the only difference was seen on his throat, an ungainly scar circling his entire neck. He looked at his family and his people with grim love, 'Hagya, my dear wife, forgive me for such a rash action, yet you yourself know that it is all necessary. My children, I love you all entirely, though I must beg for forgiveness, for causing you great distress. Gaulfar, my eldest son, I pass on my rule to you, child, may you govern your people justly and wisely. And of course, to my fellow Perseimions, my people to you I must beg for the biggest pardon! To any of you who have lost a loved one due to me, to any of you who had suffered without reason, to any of you who were wronged by me, and to any of you who questioned my rule, I asked for clemency, and that I wish that you do not justify him with your controversy about me. For, I can assure you that he is far better.'  
  
"He raised his eyes to Arbalan, the one being higher than he. Arbalan nodded silently, and Perseiminn said his final words, 'I am no longer your Emperor, yet I am still serving over you. I am now The Erui Rodon!' Lightning flashed once more, yet this time the earth shook violently. Arbalan was muttering incantations and moving his arms in ancient positions. The two of them were covered by a wraithlike light. Another explosion commenced, and the light vanished. There were the two Gods, yet Perseiminn was changed. He was no longer upright and alert, yet his body was curved backwards, and his eyes were shut. His heaving chest was the only sign of his life... Then the two disappeared, in another burst of sightless light, and all was as it was, yet somehow...different...  
  
"So, the son, Gaulfar took the throne of his father, and the God Arbalan guided over Perseimous with their first emperor, Perseiminn, the Erui Rodon. Gaulfar's rule was quite prosperous, they had expanded their lands, and money was plentiful. After he had died, he became the Edwen Rodon, the Second Divinity. His son, Gauldor, who inherited the throne, became the Third Divinity, and so on and so forth. There were seven divinities all in all, when the Dynasty of Perseiminn was ended.  
  
"Yet something happened, something that should not have come to pass, yet did inevitably... The Sixth Emperor of Perseimous, Farastos, was by far the greatest Emperor to rule over Perseimous, next to Emperor Perseiminn himself. Emperor Farastos had tripled all their lands, he had won the Empire many wars, he had advanced technology by an amazing rate, and he had businesses flourishing so greatly, that not only was the Empire rich, yet the commoners as well. He was loved by his people and was greatly mourned for after his death.  
  
"He too had become a Divinity, he was known as the Enethui Rodon-"  
  
"What?!" a voice cut though Lady Caspaius's droning listen. It was Aragorn, surprisingly enough, he had been listening. He asked her, "Did you say Enethui Rodon?"  
  
"Well, yes, I believe I did," She stuttered, she muddled herself as she was thrown of her momentum, "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Err... no reason ma'am," Aragorn blubbered, feeling embarrassment, "Please, continue..."  
  
"Alright, let's see... Oh, yes... He was known as the Enethui Rodon. He was prayed to very often, even more than the other divinities. He was asked to let one person's crops thrive, yet the competition's to wither. He was begged to let one's business prosper, yet another one's business to fail. They offered him everything they had, from the harvest, to money, to blood sacrifices. The seeds of pride and greed were sown into his soul. Evil followed soon after. His mind, once tranquil and right, was now scheming and angry. He did not wish to be a Demi-God. He lusted for the power of a true God. He wished to revolt against Arbalan. He formed, in secret, a band of demons, deluded angels, and the spirits of those dead who were faithful only to him. They were known as the Farastosi. With them he planned to commit foul deeds, yet he was stopped by Arbalan, who saw everything.  
  
"Arbalan, sensing the evil within the Enethui Rodon, imprisoned him in a hall, known as the Hall of Farastos. He was imprisoned in an urn of great power. The Farastosi were hunted, yet only few were found and killed. Farastos's two guards were these two beings, not living, not dead, not immortal nor mortal and neither, human nor angel. They were-"  
  
"Galbrannon and Cenedril," murmured Aragorn, yet Caspaius heard it clearly.  
  
"Why yes, Aragorn... Now returning to the Empire of Perseimous..."  
  
She continued on with the lesson, yet Aragorn no longer paid attention to her or to the queer looks given to him. His thoughts were in a blur, meshing and mixing as they pleased. That place, that happening, those beings, they weren't figments of his imagination as Elrond had said they were.  
  
They were something else...

* * *

Can you call this a nice beginning to my story? I know it's really long, but most of it will be necessary in some upcoming chapters. I hope that you all liked the story. I just came up with the idea one day and I decided to give it a shot, I hope that it was worth it. I had a lot of fun writing in, especially during the Perseimous part. It was interesting to write, even if you may be bored reading it. I can't tell you how many more parts like this there are going to be in the story, because even I don't know. I'm just coming up with everything as I go along. That is my writing style, as unorthodox as it is. I don't have a beta-reader and I can't seem to write regularly. Some useless stuff always comes up when I do try to write. Sometimes it takes me a long time to update, while other times I can update just two or three days after I put out another chapter, but then I am not promising anything at all. Hey, wait! Listen, if you are confused or anything, you can ask your questions through reviewing or even emailing me. My email address is in my profile, of course. I'll just say it one more time if you didn't read it the first time. I hoped you liked my story and this chapter, and I will really try to update as soon as bloody possible, though I don't exactly know when that really is. Please do not forget to type me up a review!


	2. The Radiance in the Night

This is the second chapter to my story, obviously. I really do like the idea, but I hope that the story gets a bit more notice. I'm drawing a bit of a blank for the beginning, but I'll try to make it as great as possible. I promise, I suppose. I'll be including more of the other characters later on in the story. It's kind of hard, but I hope that I can manage it all. It's actually really fun to write, but it gets slightly tiring sometimes, but then I remember that I'm not doing this for anyone, but me... I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, I do not have a beta-reader. If you have any questions or if anyone can possibly beta-read for me, check out my email in my profile. I seriously hope that I do not tire from writing this story. A lot of writers rarely update their works, and I just don't want to end up like that. Please, don't forget to review!  
  
Chapter2  
  
The Radiance in the Night  
  
A bell rang loudly through the halls of the historical building, signaling the beginning of the lunch period. Aragorn's mind was in a flurry, as it usually was these days. He walked next to Eomer who was talking animatedly. The two were searching for Boromir and Legolas. They were in the middle of the student counter flow, most of them hurrying of to eat their lunch. It didn't take very long to find their other friends.  
  
...Galbrannon...Cenedril...Enethui Rodon...Farastosi... How had he seen this? Did he truly have the Vision? If he did, when would this vision actually occur? Aragorn put his hand to his forehead, shaking it in exasperation. Eomer didn't seem to notice.  
  
"...Do you think I passed Gashdin's test? I barely had time to study for it... I was going to cram before classes started, yet tracking down and beating up Wormtongue took longer than I actually expected..." Eomer continued blathering, "...I didn't know the answer to probably nine or ten of the questions in the whole bloody test, but really, do you think that I'll ever need any knowledge about Home Economics in my entire life?"  
  
"Well, you won't if you want to set your kitchen on fire or give your guests food poisoning," a new voice ribbed Eomer. It was Boromir, strutting over to them, with his usual cocky self. Legolas trudged soon after, seeming a bit miffed.  
  
"What's wrong with you Legolas?" asked Eomer, noticing his friend's unhappy disposition, "Did one of the girls in your class copy your hairstyle?"  
  
Eomer and Boromir were sent into fits of giggles. Legolas shot him a glare as they walked to the lunch hall, "I highly doubt that Eomer," His voice was of steel, "We had Elrond as a substitute for Math and he gave us this brutal speed drill. My mind is sore from all the computations!" groaned Legolas as he rubbed his head.  
  
"Oh, well I had a free period," said Boromir, they entered the lunch hall and lined up for their food, "I saw Wormtongue scurrying of to the Nurse's Office, Merry and Pippin sneaking into the school's food supply, and Elladan and Elrohir rigging the auditorium for some future prank of theirs."  
  
None of them noticed Aragorn's silence. It happened often that Aragorn did not wish to talk or simply notice them. His current behavior wasn't classified as unusual, since it happened every so often.  
  
The line gradually grew shorter and the four had gotten their food. Now, being well-known students in their level, yet without any title to perfectly suit them, they had their own table at lunch. It was one of the tables that had no name, for it could not be named. They weren't the extremely popular ones, neither we they the outcasts of society. The four headed for 'The Table.'  
  
"Hey, did I tell you already that my sister is coming to study here?" asked Eomer as they settled into a table with their lunch at hand. He sat next to Boromir who sat across Aragorn who sat next to Legolas.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I've told Aragorn already." grunted Boromir after he took a large swig from his cup, "Speaking of which, my brother's also coming to study here. That puny, little, runt worked his ass off to get those good grades! If only I could aspire to work as hard as him." Boromir sniggered.  
  
"Boromir, you may not work hard on your schooling, but the same lethargy cannot be said when it comes to the ladies," muttered Eomer, "Even if the results are not as fruitful as your brother's grades."  
  
A round of laughter passed, "I got the charm he's got the brains. What can I say?" Boromir smirked and shrugged his shoulders. A distant snort was heard shortly after.  
  
"So, you're happy for him?" asked Legolas, Boromir shrugged then nodded. Legolas picked into his food, "Do Faramir and Eowyn even know each other? We've been friends for so long, and our relatives are hardly aware of that... Aren't they the same age anyway?"  
  
"I believe that Eowyn is younger than Faramir," answered Eomer, he swiveled to Boromir and his face turned suspicious, "Why? Are you or your brother planning anything! I'll have you know that Eowyn is way too young to have a relationship with any of you, not even your brother Boromir!" He hissed over protectively, "I will wring your throats if you so much as think of my sister in any way, excluding the thoughts of her being my sister and a good, little girl!" They laughed, but could clearly tell that he was dead serious.  
  
"Like that would ever happen," snorted Boromir, "Faramir may be smart, but he's a real idiot when it comes to people, much less women. I believe his social life revolves around us four and his library," shrugged Boromir, "But anyway, Aragorn, dude," He began, after a 'soft' belch, "What was with you in Caspaius's lecture?" He asked, finally noticing his friend's silence. His outspoken reaction was quite atypical from his detached behavior.  
  
Legolas and Eomer looked at him inquiringly, "Yeah, how did you know about all that stuff she was talking about?" asked Eomer.  
  
He scrutinized the imperatively, "If I tell you, you guys will laugh," His voice was stiff and stringent.  
  
Legolas snorted exasperatedly, "Oh come on Aragorn!" he let out a laugh. Legolas asked Aragorn "Does it really matter if we laugh at you? I mean, I thought that all of us were cool with the laughing matter..."  
  
"Yeah," His voice was strangely weak, "But this is serious. I don't even know a thing about why I'm acting like this!" He scratched his head and refused to touch his unappetizing food, "It's just that... I had a dream." This matter was something that he didn't want his friends to laugh over.  
  
"Aragorn," Boromir's voice was flat, and he kept it serious, "We already know about that dream you had," He stifled a snicker.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yeah, that night you stayed at my house, Faramir and I caught the entire thing on tape," Aragorn's jaw dropped as the words dribbled out of Boromir's mouth, "We know all about that little conversation we had with that... woman," He broke out in laughter as the strangled look on Aragorn's face intensified, "I quote Aragorn when I say this," His voice became melodramatic, "'I wish this dream to never end. I wish that this night be as eternal as the sun's radiant glow. I wish to walk in your blissful company for all the ages that this world will endure,' unquote."  
  
Legolas and Eomer broke into laughter, yet Aragorn tightened his jaw and balled his hands into fists. He had never said that to her, he had only thought it... "Please tell me that you have copies of that tape, Boromir!" Eomer said in between sorts and guffaws.  
  
Boromir replied, "Just one or two," the tension in Aragorn's face lessened, "Dozen..."  
  
"See, this is why I don't want to tell you a thing about what I had dreamt about!" hissed Aragorn, "And it wasn't that! It was something else... She has nothing to do with anything that went on in Caspaius's class!" he scowled at each one of them.  
  
Legolas peered at him with his eyebrow raised, "So, who is this girl?"  
  
"That's beside the point Legolas!"  
  
"Yeah, but who is she?"  
  
"Why do you want to know so much?"  
  
"Why don't you want us to know so much?"  
  
"...Because I don't know who she is...!"  
  
"Wait a second! There's this girl who you've been dreaming about, for who knows how long, and you don't even know her name?" asked Eomer incredulously, eyeing Aragorn as Legolas had done awhile ago. Aragorn gave him an exasperated look, "Just checking to make sure..." muttered Eomer, "At least we know that you know how to take care of a lady..."  
  
The three laughed once more at that statement, as Aragorn buried his face in his arms, "Now you know the reason why I avoid telling you anything that has any personal value to me."   
  
Groaned Aragorn as their laughing died down.  
  
"Fine Aragorn," Boromir's voice was steady, "We'll stop laughing, and we promise that we will try the hardest to remain as serious as humanly possible."  
  
"Alright, if you guys really do want to know about what had happened, I'll tell you, but you have to promise to shut up," He made them swear, and they did, "Like I said, I had a dream last night. It wasn't one of my usual dreams," a soft snigger was heard from Eomer's direction, "But I still remembered it clearly, as I do my other dreams. I saw some sort of hall, or perhaps a temple. There were these two beings; the man was called Galbrannon, the woman, Cenedril. The hall was shaking and it was falling to its demise. The man and the woman were trembling; they held each other close as the hall came on top of them. They were yelling about the Enethui Rodon and that it was breaking free from its incarceration. Then the hall exploded. I had almost felt the searing heat on my skin. The aftermath of the explosion I saw next. The hall, once grand, was now a smoking pile of rubble in the empty plain in which is stood proudly upon. Cenedril was stricken almost immediately. A long metal was protruding from her back. Galbrannon's side was a bloodied pulp, yet still he lived. He crawled over to some hidden compartment and drew out a horn. He struck it on the ground and it broke. From it, a blinding light shone, covering everything, even I could not see. And when the light subsided, all the ruins had vanished. Afterwards, I had awoken..."  
  
After he had recapitulated his dream, he looked at his friends. They all bore the same expression, one of confusion and bewilderment, "Wow, you were serious about the matter being serious," murmured Eomer, "I can say that I have heard of the Enethui Rodon before the lecture awhile ago, yet I have no knowledge of it ever becoming free."  
  
"I have heard about the Rodons myself," agreed Legolas, "The Enethui, the Sixth, is the only infamous one. He achieved his infamy by his attempt at rebelling and all the foul deeds that the Farastosi had committed. He was said to have great power, yet he had never really gotten around to wreaking havoc over the world. As said by Caspaius, Arbalan had found him out before any damage was done."  
  
"Do you think that it is a prophetic dream?" asked Boromir suddenly, leaning in closer to the table, "My father knows someone, whose ancestor was one of the Farastosi. This man feels the pull of the Enethui at all times, yet now he is feeling it the stronger. They are aware that the Sixth Divinity has regained a fraction of his strength even in captivity. And they are all certain that what he has is enough."  
  
"Yet that is not possible," protested Legolas, "The Enethui Rodon cannot break free from his prison by his own!" He quieted his voice so that lurking ears would not hear of their conspicuous conversation.  
  
"That is true," agreed Boromir, "The only way the Enethui can escape is with the help of the Farastosi. Only they know how to free him, yet they are still his slaves. He must have used whatever power he had to summon them."  
  
"What do the Farastosi need to do to free them?" asked Aragorn, who knew barely a thing about the Enethui Rodon.  
  
"Well you see," began Legolas, "The Emperor Farastos was not only an excellent politician, but a skilled swordsman as well. When he became a Divinity, he wished to make the greatest sword that was ever forged. He got the materials from his worshippers. He slowly entered their minds and hearts, decaying them as the days passed. The worshippers exploited their lands and even stole from others. In the end, he had gotten more than he needed. He was ready to create the ultimate sword. In the end he had succeeded. He named it Gur-na-Hathol. Yet by the time he had completed it, Arbalan had discovered him, and the sword was confiscated. While he was locked in an urn, his loyal worshippers either fled or were executed, and his blade broken into four. The four pieces were scattered all over in other realms and universes. Since then, the remaining Farastosi had searched different universes and dimensions to find the four pieces, for Farastos had kept most of his power with the sword. Last I heard they had found the third piece. When they do acquire the fourth, they must travel to where he is imprisoned and merely come within a few meters and he will have enough power to break free."  
  
"It must be a prophetic dream," urged Eomer, who agreed with Boromir, "We all knew that it was inevitable. We were all certain the eventually the Enethui Rodon would break free of his prison. Do you think I should tell my uncle?"  
  
"No," Aragorn shook his head, "Why let the older ones fret over a scenario of which we have no proof that it will actually occur. Elrond did not seem so worried over the matter, I suppose. He told me that it was a figment of my imagination." He searched the sea of heads, "Speaking of which, where is Elrond?"  
  
"Well, I had just had him for Mathematics, but he headed to his faculty when he left the classroom," supplied Legolas, shrugging as he scanned the lunch room for any signs of their Sir Elrond.  
  
The four searched within the mass of students and teachers, yet they could not visibly spot Elrond. He was not at his usual place in the teacher's table. Boromir shrugged, "I doubt that it's of any importance, where he is, probably in the bathroom, or even the library. Besides, Elladan and Elrohir don't seem to notice a thing."  
  
The twins were currently standing on top of the table on which they usually ate and were singing chanting a little ditty...horribly... Apparently they were mimicking two of the hobbits, Merry and Pippin. The teachers were too exasperated to care for their antics anymore.  
  
"Hey Boromir," Legolas mumbled between chews, he had returned to his food, "How do you even know about the Enethui Rodon? I thought that brainless guys like you didn't listen to the teacher, much less crack a book open."  
  
"It's that little blatherskite!" replied Boromir, flinging whatever was left of his bread into his mouth, "I swear, once Faramir starts reiterating what's written his books and his research, he'll never stop! And I'm forced to actually digest what he's saying. As much as I love the idiot, sometimes I just want to stuff those books down his throat! I mean, I'm saying all these big words like 'reiterating' and 'blatherskite!'"  
  
"I know exactly what you mean," agreed Eomer, pointing his dry soup spoon at Boromir, "Eowyn never shuts up whenever she talks about Aragorn," although he didn't like other guys whom his sister spoke of or even knew, he made an exception for Aragorn, since it drove him to embarrassment whenever the topic was brought up.   
  
Eomer imitated Eowyn in a high-pitched voice, "Eomer! Eomer!" He shrieked as he flailed his arms around, "Aragorn just sent me a letter! He is so nice. Do you remember him Uncle? He was that dashing, young man with the beautiful black hair and lovely eyes! Eomer, can he come to the estate during summer break? Please, please Eomer! Ask Aragorn if he can visit me! I promise that I'll behave really nicely and of course I will look nice too! Tell Aragorn that I'll look nice!" Eomer, Legolas, and Boromir all had a nice laugh.  
  
"When exactly did she say those words Eomer," asked Aragorn through gritted teeth. He was clearly annoyed.  
  
"...when she was nine..."  
  
"See!" Aragorn shouted softly to his friends, "That was like how many years ago!" he hissed, "I'm sure that she's gotten at least a little bit smarter than that! Aren't there men who like your sister, provided you haven't traumatized them away?"  
  
"Grima."  
  
"Alright," mumbled Aragorn, clearly not the right question, "Are their any men, who are interested in your sister, yet aren't chronically creepy, slightly insane, and haven't been traumatized away by you?"  
  
"Oh that's very comforting Aragorn," drawled Eomer, "The only men interested in my sister are those who are chronically creepy, should I be worrying about Gollum and Boromir from now on?"  
  
"Hey, I am not chronically creepy!" Protested Boromir, but he was ignored.  
  
"Aragorn, Aragorn, you have not a thing to worry about," smiled Legolas as he patted Aragorn's back, hiding his smirk, "You'll have no problems with Eowyn, since you are already so madly in love with another."  
  
"What?" Aragorn asked incredulously, "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You know, that girl of your dreams."  
  
"Legolas!" yelled Aragorn, he flung Eomer's empty soup dish at his friend's face. The bowl made solid contact with his face and it slid to the floor revealing a large bruise, "You deserved that bash!"  
  
"My fan club will curse you into hell for destroying my face like that!" He threatened, clutching his face in pain.  
  
"Hold on!" interjected Eomer, "You have a fan club? Since when?" asked Eomer.  
  
"Oh come on Eomer," snorted Boromir, "Haven't you heard of the 'Legolites?' They were a sort of like a cult, right? Don't you remember those thirteen scary girls who used to stalk Legolas? They were disbanded by Galadriel and a few expelled for other matters, but some of the ladies still love him, unfortunately for us." muttered Boromir, "But then if we continuously mutilate him and his precious face, he won't have any worshippers, now will he?" He got an evil look on his face.  
  
"No, he won't," murmured Eomer, acquiring the same evil look.  
  
"Oh come on!" protested Legolas, "I'm sure nearly all the girls have at least one picture of the both of you!" He rubbed his swollen cheek and glared at Aragorn.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose," shrugged Eomer, "We're still popular with the ladies!" They knew that he was joking.  
  
Aragorn burrowed his head within his arms and let out a groan, "Why do I feel nauseated by your company?"

* * *

A man was brought in. His hands were bound, his eyes concealed, his mouth gagged, and his body struggling. Two burly men held him firmly as they dropped him harshly on the hard ground. The cloth tied across his mouth was removed, and the two men stayed behind him.  
  
"Do you have any idea who I am?!" The man yelled as soon as his restraint was loosened, "I am Elrond, son of Earendil!" A dim light shone on him, yet it was not enough to break through the think darkness surrounding him.  
  
"I am much aware of who you are, Elrond Peredhil, Son of Earendil, Husband of Celebrian, Brother of Elros, Father of Elladan, Elrohir, and the Evenstar as well," A sneering voice came from the blanket of darkness, "Yet the question that lingers in your mind shall not yet be answered."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Ah, see." murmured the sleek, seductive voice, "That is the question that shall torment your mind for now, but I am certain that another question shall come from your mouth, and indeed, I shall be able to answer." The voice, clearly belonging to a man, had a strange accent. It seemed otherworldly.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" asked Elrond, regaining his composure. He decided that to get out of this little mishap, he had to remain as diplomatic and civilized as possible.  
  
"There is the question," laughed the voice, "You are indeed a smart man Elrond Earendilion. I have abducted you from your school for you have some information, regarding myself. And as vague as the information may be, I cannot risk it with a man of your stature!"  
  
One of the men behind him had a wooden rod fastened to his side. He removed it, and hit Elrond squarely at the side of his head. Elrond buckled to the floor, unable to shield himself from the continuous blows that were being dealt to his body. The other man joined in with a long stick of metal, "What information?" he gasped out in pain.  
  
The voice let out a cruel, derogatory laugh, clearly enjoying the man's suffering. "I thought that you were a smart man, Earendilion," the voice sneered, "Or perhaps you really do not know, yet I highly doubt it." From the shadows, footsteps were heard coming towards the downtrodden man.  
  
Another man walked towards Elrond, standing right in front of the beaten guy. The new figure was wearing a long robe. It was made of fine silk, singed and torn in some places, and clearly very old. The designs, colors, and way of weaving seemed to surpass excellence. A head of long, unruly silver hair flowed done his lean back.  
  
The man bent down, low enough to speak in a whisper to Elrond, yet high enough for his face to remained concealed by the shadows, "You know of what I speak. That boy who you have given a roof to, he spoke to you about that vision he had." His voice was a sleek sneer, "You had a suspicion that he had the prophetic sight, and that dream he had was all you needed to prove it." The man grabbed Elrond's head and he pressed a silver dagger to his throat, "Who is that boy?"  
  
"You are aware that I have been told something of a prophetic likeness, and yet you do not know the boy who with the Vision," Elrond drawled coldly, coughing up some blood, "What power do you hold over me yet not over him?"  
  
"That boy, he has a shield protecting him from my power, as great as it is," muttered the man, "He is covered with light and peace, no doubt by his parents! Tell me who he is, or I shall slit your throat."  
  
"You won't."  
  
The man gave a small chuckle, "My Elrond, you have quite the gall, but you are right," muttered the man, "I cannot slit your throat, but I can still threaten you! You aren't to speak to anyone about what that miscreant boy told you!"  
  
"Err... Boss?" asked one of the burly cronies, his accent was thick and foreign, "Why exactly can't we slit the man's throat? I mean, he's right here and all." The other crony nodded dumbly in agreement.  
  
"You idiots," groaned the man, "This man is Elrond Earendilion. He has many high connections. When they notice that he is gone, controversy would storm their realm. They have spies and necromancers. If his spirit were to pass in the Shadow Realm, their necromancers can summon him, and we would be found out!"  
  
"Necromancers are those chaps who can control the dead, right?" the other one asked, scratching his head.  
  
"Yes, Forstall," griped the man, "Necromancers can summon the souls of those dead." He strained his words as if he was speaking to a three-year old.  
  
"I refuse to bend to your will," snapped Elrond, "The people deserve to know of any evil approaching!" spat the beaten man.  
  
"Elrond, Elrond, Elrond," His voice reverted to his sneering manner, "There are two ways of doing this, one painful, and one even more painful, yet both extremely amusing to myself. Which will it be?"  
  
"My choices are very reasonable, aren't they?" hissed Elrond, regaining his old spirit.  
  
"The first choice," The man released Elrond from his grasp and stood up. He kicked Elrond fiercely in the side, "Is that you silence your mouth to anyone who asks about that certain manner. My spies will be watching you each day and each moment, ready to pounce when even a strand of hair is out of line. The second choice you have is for me to wipe out your memory of what the boy told you."  
  
"How is that painful?" asked Elrond, now lying painfully on his back, every inch of his body heavily bruised.  
  
"You know not of my methods of removing a specific memory in one's mind," snickered the mysterious man, "I delve into your head, as a searing dagger would. I would force all the nerves in your head to contract and bleed! I will skewer my way through the memory I wish to seek, sending an incessant flow of pain through your head. I could force abrasions onto your body when you resist. And this process can take hours if I wish it. The choice is yours, Earendilion."  
  
"No, it is not," snarled Elrond, "You are to decide for me!" He gave the man a hard glare, yet the man remained amused.  
  
"Of course," the man let out a sneering laugh, "why would any self-righteous hostage taker give any freedom to his captive," The man snickered at his comment and disappeared once more into the impassable darkness that room was shrouded in, "That memory is to be removed."  
  
Elrond growled fiercely, but then he felt a sudden jolt at the back of his head. The pressure was pulling at his nerves and senses and the last thing he remembered was the man's mocking voice.  
  
Then all Elrond, Son of Earendil, saw was darkness...

* * *

"Hey Elladan, Elrohir!" yelled Aragorn as he pushed his way through the students. School had just ended and he was searching for the twins. He had found them outside the school building talking to some friends. Aragorn's own group of friends was following him out of the sea of students.  
  
"Hey little Estel," it was probably Elrohir whose mocking voice called for Aragorn, "How are you and your little playmate chums?" Elrohir smiled a toothy, sarcastic smile at the four who rolled their eyes at the younger twin.  
  
"Hey Legolas, what happened to your face?" asked Elladan, who rolled his eyes at his brother as well.  
  
"Aragorn threw a soup dish at me," grumbled Legolas, stroking his bruised face self-consciously.  
  
"You know that you deserved it, you ugly pretty boy," snorted Aragorn, resorting back to being redundant, "Are we headed home yet? And where is Elrond?" asked Aragorn, changing the topic, for fear of what may become of it.  
  
"We don't know," answered Elladan, "He told us to meet him in his office before we ate lunch. He wasn't there, but there he left a note saying that he had to go away on some urgent matter. He said that either I or Elrohir could drive." Two identical looks of evil flashed on the twins' faces.  
  
"Walk home Aragorn," Eomer said in a fake, solemn voice, "If you want to live past this day." They laughed at his statement, yet it held some sort of truth to it.  
  
"You know," interjected Elrohir, "You have no actual proof that Elladan and I cannot drive well. I mean, have you ever been in the car when I or Elladan were driving it? You've never seen us drive."  
  
"For fear of any bodily injury," muttered Aragorn sarcastically.  
  
"Whatever," grinned Elladan, he flashed the keys in Elrohir's and Aragorn's faces, "Get in the car, and shut up! I'm driving..."  
  
"What?!" yelled Elrohir, "We never agreed to that! Why do you get to drive?" protested the other twin. He made a grab for the keys, but Elladan balled his hands into fists and jerked his arm away. Elladan smiled so cheekily, it was as if he had won all the money in the world.  
  
"It's because I'm older and a lot more responsible!"  
  
"At least I'm the handsome one..."  
  
"Elrohir, we're identical twins!"

* * *

"Where exactly in your delusional mind did you get the notion that you were any more handsome than me?" asked Elladan to his twin who sat in the seat next to his. He deftly steered the car along the road.  
  
"He said the same thing to me awhile ago Elladan," drawled Aragorn who was sitting in the backseat. He supported his face with his elbows, "It's his only real card to play, and still it sucks."  
  
"I have more witty retorts, believe me," smiled Elrohir, "But then again, Elladan, you and I have nothing to worry," he patted his twin's shoulder, "The both of us know full well that we're way more handsome than Aragorn!" He held out his hand to Elladan.  
  
"Isn't that true," laughed Elladan, clasping one of his hand's with Elrohir's.  
  
Aragorn's face remained impassive, but he rolled his eyes in vexation, "I exasperated enough to let that pass, you transvestites..." groaned Aragorn sarcastically, he leaned back in his seat.  
  
"What's with you Little Estel," crooned Elladan, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, "Did your inane, little friends find about the girl of your dreams?" Elrohir gave a loud snort to follow his twin's comment.  
  
Aragorn's eyes bulged and he shot forward from his seat, "How did you hear about that?"  
  
"Oh come on Estel," drawled Elrohir as he turned his head to face Aragorn, "hasn't anyone ever told you that you talk in your sleep, and loudly; I might mention. And besides, Boromir tipped us off about your late night conversations." The grin on the younger twin's face was full of cheek, "We heard you guys talking about it over lunch."  
  
"How could you? You were practically three tables away from us!"  
  
"Estel, Estel, Estel," Elladan shook his face with mirth, "Haven't you heard of 'connections?' I'm sure you have some of your own, even if they are pretty daft," Elladan smirked, "Those guys we were talking to awhile ago told us, but we knew a long time ago as well."  
  
"Oh, and the fact is supposed to comfort me..."  
  
"Well, actually it could," responded Elrohir, "Be comforted by the fact that we didn't tell anyone before, but those guys are probably going to tell some people, who are going to tell some more people, who are going to tell even more people, and you probably catch my drift already."  
  
Aragorn let out a loud moan, "Why did this have to happen to me?" The twins smirked simultaneously at each other and let out two identical snickers. Aragorn groaned in frustration once more, "Why couldn't they have found out about Elladan's nighttime habit." Elrohir was suddenly in a fit of giggles. Elladan looked perplexed.  
  
"What nighttime habit?"

* * *

The sun's rays fell as quickly as the moon's soft glow rose. The glories of the day soon became the mysteries of the night. The birds that chirped gleefully were replaced by the owl's mournful hooting. The morning's radiant beauty had become the night's dusky splendor. All the light that had shone over the lands was covered by the eerie darkness.  
  
Aragorn changed into his sleeping clothes and looked out his window, spotting all the inscrutable features that night sky. He peered nervously at his bed, in a way afraid to dream once more. What if he was to have another dream, which continued the first?  
  
He wanted to dream about her. He could tell her anything and he would solve his problems. Even with the mere sound of her voice seemed to comfort him out of his unease. But would he dream about her?  
  
To sleep would be the only way to find out, yet some phobic force wouldn't allow him to. He dragged a chair to his window and continued looked out, trying to slice through the unfathomable darkness that shrouded the outside.  
  
"Come to sleep," a voice rattled within his head, it sounded ethereal, yet hurt. Aragorn's eyes widened, "Don't you want to see me?"  
  
Aragorn's mouth dropped to an unreasonable length yet no words came out, "Please, I want to talk to you... I need to talk to you about something..." The voice said once more, penetrating his empty thoughts.  
  
Aragorn peeked once more at his bed and scanned his returning thoughts. They flew past him and he was forced to rely on instinct. Aragorn rigidly stood up from his chair and walked to the bed. He pulled the bed covers and got in slowly. He laid his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. Wishing that sleep would come quick, and it did.  
  
Drowsiness overcame him and his mind shut off...

* * *

Darkness was no more, yet only a brilliant light shone on the eyes of onlookers. Aragorn found himself on sitting a stone bench situated in a garden. The weather in the garden was fair and the flowers were in bloom. The sun's rays comforted his face with warmth and the soothing sounds of nature flew gently to his ears.  
  
He had been there before...many times in fact...  
  
He swiveled forward and came face to face with a woman. His face broke out in a grin as soon as he had seen her. The woman of his dreams, he knew so much about her, yet so little as well...  
  
She was, to put into plain words, beautiful. She seemed to be slightly older, but her face was unmarred by any scars or any sign of age. It had a demure oval shape. Her eyes were a stunning grey, which seemed to penetrate the flimsy coating of skin and pierce through the heart and soul. Her nose was built at a perfect angle. Her chin was prominent. Her skin was pale, yet it was not sickly, nor was it sallow. Her hair was long, and as dark as the night. Her body was tall, perhaps as tall as Aragorn, and willowy. She captivated him to no ends.  
  
She gave Aragorn a brilliant smile, "I was afraid that you feared to go back to sleep once more. I was afraid that I would never see you again," murmured the beautiful woman to him, stroking his face gently.  
  
He shivered slightly, yet was warmed by her touch, "Forgive me for my cowardice..." he murmured humbly, bowing his head.  
  
"It may have been cowardice that shunned you from your dreams, yet it is bravery that seems to have brought you back," said the woman, "I missed you that night. I waited and waited for you, and yet you never came to me." A mournful look came onto her marvelous features.  
  
"I had a dream, in replacement to this one," said Aragorn softly, clutching both her hands firmly, yet timidly in his own, "I had seen two beings in my dream, one, a man, the other, a woman. They were spiraling to their doom." He gave a low chuckle, "Some people are saying that I can see into the future."  
  
"I know that you have the Vision," whispered the woman, she began stroking his hands tenderly. She spoke to him in hushed tones, "I knew it, ever since I had dreamt about you, ever since you and I first met here. Who were the man and woman?"  
  
"...Galbrannon and Cenedril..."  
  
"The guardians of the Sixth Divinity?" asked the lady, her voice changed to surprise, "They are die? That only means that the Enethui Rodon is to break free from his prison," she became fretful.  
  
"Forgive me once more," said Aragorn, his eyes were downcast, "I did not mean to trouble you with my problems. Once I heard that you wished to speak with me, I fought my fears and returned to our dreams," he looked at her affectionately, "What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?"  
  
"I feel ashamed as well for bothering you," a soft rosiness tainted her soft cheeks, "I know that you are troubled as well. It would be discourteous for me to lay my troubles onto you, while you have your own trials to worry about."  
  
"I wish to hear of your troubles," he gave her a sweet smile; "You have been so kind to me that I must return the favor." He stroked a lock of her hair behind her ear, "Allow me to lend an ear as you have."  
  
She gave him a brilliant smile as he spoke. She gave him an affectionate embrace, but as she pulled back, her face turned grim, "It is my father," said the lady a grimace stretched on her face, "I can see events from the future and the present as well," she told him, "I fear that his life is in danger. He has not contacted me as he said he would, and I have been unable to reach him as well. I fear that he is gravely hurt." Her eyes glistened with fresh tears. Apparently, she truly cared for her father.  
  
"Do not cry," soothed Aragorn as he took her into his arms once more, stroking her lengthy hair, "Everything is alright," he whispered in her ear. The feeling of joy he felt as he held her in his arms was unmatched, yet is pained him to see her distressed.  
  
"Thank you for listening to me as well," murmured the woman, her voice was muffled by the groove of Aragorn's neck, "You are the kindest being I have ever met in my entire life. I have never met another who treats me as you do." Aragorn could feel a slight wetness on his shoulder.  
  
"Dear Lady, do not let your tears fall," he said once more, "I wish to see the same radiance in your face. Although your beauty does not wane in your sadness, I doubt that my shoulder appreciates it as much as my eyes do." He meant it as a joke.  
  
She lifted her head from his shoulder and began laughing, "You are very sweet," She smiled at him, causing him to smile as well, "Tell me, do you like it, when the sun falls and the moon rises? Does the night scare you?"  
  
A pale orange glow shimmered on her skin. He looked at her inquiringly, wondering why she was asking. "Indeed, I do enjoy the night more than the day at times," answered Aragorn honestly, "Yet the past events have made me dislike sleep somewhat."  
  
The pale orange was fading fast. Aragorn looked around the garden; the sun that once shone was dropping onto the horizon. In replacement to it, the moon rose up to reclaim its nightly position. It wasn't as brilliant, yet perhaps it was just as beautiful.  
  
But the darkening did not wane. The sun had completely vanished, and the moon's shape was changing quickly. From all the moon's visible forms, a new moon was the last. The only light that shone from the heavens was the far-away glowing of the perennial stars. Aragorn was caught up in the night sky. He had glanced at it quite often, yet he had never really dwelled on all he could find in the endless enigma. He looked up, disregarding all that was around him, and looked up at the moonless heavens. As he peered longer and harder, the less he could see. The stars seemed to disappear as he strained to look for them, "My lady what is happening?"  
  
"This is the Eternal Darkness within our hearts. In this case, it is my heart," answered the woman, "The purest heart, one completely bathed in a perennial glow, has even the slightest pigment of darkness."  
  
Aragorn looked up at the sky once more, the Darkness was swallowing the splendors of the night sky, "All of that is the Darkness in your heart," murmured Aragorn in disbelief, "It cannot be."  
  
"Oh, but it can," she smiled in mild contempt, "Although it is not now, it may soon become this large. The Darkness in my heart may not be big, yet this is what it can become," She pointed to the bleak night sky, "A field of wheat has its crops growing tall and fruitful, yet perfection can never last. The weed will creep up from the reaches of the earth and entangled itself with the crops, strangling them till they fall dead. The field will become overrun with the killing weeds, unless checked and cared for. Soon, the entire field will be taken, yet some stalks, the greatest and strongest, will still stand. But as the years will pass, if not taken care of, the entire field will fall to the weed. As will a heart full of Darkness..."  
  
"I cannot see through the Darkness's thick veils of coldness," said Aragorn, "The Darkness grows at an undefeatable pace, how can it be stopped? How can one person keep the Darkness in his or her heart at bay?"  
  
"Look at me," she said. He found that he had been gazing skyward all the time, as his eyes reached her, he held in his breath. Like a beacon in the mists of fog, she glowed brightly, shedding light to what was near her. "Even the darkest heart has some light in it as well." Her pale skin was illuminated by the silvery glow she was emanating. Aragorn did not wish to take his eyes off of her.  
  
She was the Light in the midst of all the Darkness...  
  
"One day, the Darkness in your heart will be unleashed, and you will succumb to its evil. It will remove all traces of the Light, but then you will arise once more, claiming all your rightful glory. The Light in your heart will return, vanquishing all the traces behind, if not leaving a mere speckle. You will overcome all evils that will approach you, even if failing may seem the way to vanquish it."  
  
"But what if I linger too long in the Darkness? What if it overcomes me completely, leaving no trace of the Light? What then shall be my Light?"  
  
"Hope may seem lost at times, yet in truth it is only hiding. Your hope shall return to you one day, and you will fight."  
  
"You said awhile ago that even the darkest heart has some light in it, yet you said as well that the Light shall leave my heart. What is the truth?"  
  
"Light and Darkness are only illusions...although very real...Both are strangely similar, yet radically different. Darkness is easier to obtain and far easier to keep, yet it will bring you to your ultimate downfall. Light is hard to obtain and even harder to keep, yet the fruits are satisfying. If your heart is overcome by the Darkness for a long time, indeed the light will diminish, yet with the Light, Darkness always remains."  
  
A forlorn look was cast upon Aragorn's face, "This dream is to end isn't it?"  
  
She donned the same look on her illuminated face, "Indeed it is... Yet do remember...  
  
"The Darkness will try and get you, yet the Light will forever hold you in its heart..."

* * *

"What is happening now?" a female voice asked through the dark.  
  
"He and the woman are speaking. She is telling him of what will happen to him in the future. It isn't much of a detailed description, but she is talking about the Darkness and the Light. Should we worry about this?" A man answered, he was peering at a sphere and the scene that was unfolding inside it.  
  
"You may, but I will not... She is helping us in way... I mean, we won't have to explain every single detail if she is explaining some things to him, although the other ones may prove to be a bit more of a challenge..." the female drawled lethargically.  
  
"Oh please, I have never seen or even heard of a thing that even comes close to challenging, for you! You are either humbling yourself or lying." muttered the man, groaning at his companion's demeanor.  
  
"Lying."  
  
"I see... The dream is about to end. They are both fading back to the real world, they seem rather sad, wouldn't you say? Do you suppose that they actually have feelings for one another?" asked the man, as he continued looking at the orb.  
  
"It may not be logical to love someone in your dreams, yet it is highly possible," answered the female, unenthusiastically, "There have been many records, mostly diaries and journals, of people dreaming about their soul mates or others who do not even exist. Some have even passed their own realm into the one of Dreams to be with the beloved figments of their imaginations."  
  
"You are keeping something from me..." muttered the male, suspicious.  
  
"I have always done that... Haven't you grown accustomed to it yet?"  
  
"I suppose, yet it still peeves me... The dream has finally ended. Both of them have vanished and so has their meeting place. He's already awoken in his world, but he seems confused and a bit shaken. What are we to do next?"  
  
"He needs to think the dream over. I'm certain that he remembers the details vividly, and I'm certain that her words have been imprinted onto his mind. Perhaps he needs some time to process all that he has gathered. You may turn the sphere off."  
  
The man obeyed without question, "What will happen, when the Darkness attacks at its full power?"  
  
"If we fail...Wrath and Ruin..."

* * *

There you go; the second installment of my Lord of the Rings story. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it. Some parts in the chapter are unanswered and mysterious, but don't worry. Everything will be explained in future chapters. Who is the woman of Aragorn's dreams? What is Elladan's nighttime habit? What happened to Elrond? Who kidnapped Elrond? What did Elrond want to tell Elladan and Elrohir? Who are these two mysterious people who came up near the ending of the chapter? Why am I wasting my time typing this up? Are there anymore questions, even if some of them have pretty obvious answers...? If you have any guesses, you can put them in your review or even email me. The address is in the profile. Do not forget to write up a review! 


	3. The Veracity of Reality

Hey once again...to whoever is reading anyway. This is the third installment of my story. So far, everyone seems to be taking pleasure in Aragorn's misery, in the story I mean. Elrond was kidnapped by someone or something bigger than he had imagined, yet no one has noticed his disappearance yet. Aragorn, although reluctant, returned to sleep. Much to his great pleasure, his prophetic dreams were replaced by his usual reoccurring dream. He dreamt of himself and a woman conversing in a beautiful garden. Each night before, he had that dream. He found great joy in speaking with the woman, the woman of his dreams. So, that's basically the recapitulation of the previous chapter I had uploaded. I hope this story progresses. Do not forget to review!  
  
Chapter3  
  
The Veracity of Reality  
  
Aragorn groggily skulked through the corridors of the school. He and the twins had gotten to school even earlier than usual, and he wasn't ready to wake from his deep sleep and enjoyable dream. He let out a huge yawn and continued staggering through the bright hallway.  
  
His bag was loosely slung over his shoulder and his body was completely slouched. His hair was completely disheveled and his eyes were dropping. He let out a huge yawn and stretched his stiff arms as he neared his locker. He racked his muddled brain for the code and opened it. He carelessly dropped his belongings inside the locker and continued on with his skulking ways.  
  
"Well don't you look presentable today?" A derisive, yet audibly familiar, cocky voice punched at his sleepiness. It was Legolas. His hands were in his pockets and his pale face was formed into a smirk, "You look terrible..."  
  
"Nice to see you too Legolas," Aragorn muttered, running a hand through his thick hair. He hadn't noticed his arrival, but he couldn't really care less anymore. The two continued walking through the hallways.  
  
Legolas studied his friend as they walked, "What happened to you? You look as if you hadn't slept a wink last night." He raised his eyebrow speculatively, "Did you stay up at night because of the dream you had the night before?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head, his dark hair flying everywhere, "Nah, I went to sleep last night," answered Aragorn, "I didn't have another prophetic dream... I slept pretty good last night." He smiled as he thought of his dream.  
  
"So, you dreamt about your dream girl?" Legolas flashed his friend a genuine smile. Aragorn gave him a quizzical scowl, "I'm putting on my 'good friend' face now!" Legolas protested, "I won't tell the others."  
  
After hearing that, Aragorn got a goofy grin on his face, "Yeah... I did dream about her. I told her about my dreams and she actually listened to me. Legolas," He began, looking straight at his friend, all his grogginess had gone away, "You said that you would not tell anyone, meaning I'm going to hold you to this until your death or mine, provided which comes first," A dangerous, sadistic tone appeared in his voice and Legolas could see a faint glint of insanity.  
  
"Yeah, don't worry Aragorn," Legolas assured him. They had stopped walking through the empty hallway, "I swear that you can shave me bald if I tell the others," responded Legolas, "This isn't legally binding is it?" He gave a weak chuckle.  
  
"You swore didn't you?" Aragorn asked him brusquely, and he grabbed his friend's arm tightly, "Legolas," He repeated, "She spoke to me, in words I doubt that I will ever forget. She told me of my destiny, she told me of the Light, and she told me of the Darkness... She told me that I would banish the Darkness within my heart..."  
  
Legolas looked genuinely surprised, "Aragorn, I doubt that she is real," His voice was steadily rigid. "It may seem that you are speaking to her, but this is merely your subconscious showing images in your mind while you sleep."  
  
"You don't understand," he released the grip he had on Legolas's arm, "Every time I dream, every time I talk to her, we actually speak. I am actually conversing with her. It was all real! We were in a garden, and I felt her touch!" Aragorn was fuming slightly.  
  
"I know that you have very realistic dreams Aragorn, and I know that you can remember them all very well, but this does not seem like a prophetic dream, nor does it seem like the truth..." Legolas was trying to remain logical.  
  
"Why don't you believe me now? Did you not believe me when I told you of the Enethui Rodon," his voice was rising, luckily the hallway was still empty, "She spoke to me before the dream! She told me that she wished to speak with me as well!" He was very peeved at that moment.  
  
"Aragorn, as much as I am your good friend, I cannot take away my own logic and opinion just to make you happy!" Legolas snapped at Aragorn. He was a rather fractious at the fact that Aragorn had gotten so livid at what his opinion had been. "Even when you say that you suppose she is real, am I obligated to believe you? I may be wrong or right, but you cannot force me to believe in such claptrap that interferes with my own principles!"  
  
"You don't understand Legolas!" protested Aragorn, refusing to believe that Legolas had made a very good point, "She spoke to me before the entire dream! She was the reason I decided to fall asleep. She said that she wished to speak to me, for something was troubling her. Why would my subconscious conjure up anything like that?"  
  
"No one knows how the subconscious works!" hissed Legolas, "But who are you to tell me that I should believe that you have somehow been able to speak with another living person through your dreams!"  
  
"Well why had you believed me when I spoke to you of my dream concerning the Enethui Rodon?" challenged Aragorn, "What makes that reality so different from the reality of all these other dreams I had?"  
  
"I had already known that you had the Vision! I had overheard Sir Elrond talking to Sir Celeborn about that little subject a long time ago," Legolas retorted, nearly yelling at him, "Everyone knew that the Enethui Rodon was bound to escape sooner or later! When you told us of what you saw, I was certain that you did truly have the Vision, but this dream with that woman has nothing of a prophetic likeness!"  
  
Aragorn was about to snap back at Legolas, but a booming voice cut through their argument, "Aragorn, Legolas?" It was Sir Mithrandir, another teacher of theirs, although he was usually called Sir Gandalf by the students. He was a very wizened man, yet very sharp and intelligible. He taught many of the subjects, not exactly having his own certain area, "What is happening between the two of you? Are you having some sort of a row?" his voice was not accusing, yet authoritarian all the same.  
  
"No, sir," Legolas answered quickly, "We were only having a debate over a little matter."  
  
Gandalf seemed to believe Legolas, "Right then...Aragorn, I must have a word with Sir Elrond," informed the old teacher, "Since you are here, I should assume that he has arrived as well, and yet he has not... Do you have any idea where he is?"  
  
"Forgive me Sir, but I am as confused as you are," replied Aragorn, ignoring Legolas, "I was told by Elladan and Elrohir that when they had visited his office yesterday, he was no longer there, yet he had left a note. I believe they said that it read that he had gone away regarding some urgent business."  
  
"Hmm..." Mithrandir scratched his chin, hidden behind the grey mass of his beard, "I see...Well thank you Aragorn, you may carry on with what you were doing. Have a good day," he waved them goodbye and left off in his own direction, yet the two boys could barely make out a gleaming twinkle in the wizened man's eyes, as if he was aware of what he had walked into.  
  
As soon as Mithrandir was out of sight and hopefully out of earshot, Aragorn and Legolas faced each other, "I have nothing more to say to you," muttered Aragorn. He turned on his heel and strode off, "I may offend even more of your principles!"  
  
Legolas glared a hole into Aragorn's back as he strode away from him, "Your stench offends more than just my principles," he grumbled under his breath and sauntered to the direction, opposite the direction Aragorn chose.  
  
Aragorn wasn't quite sure on what had set him off. Legolas had said that what Aragorn had told him questioned his logic. Somehow, that had been the catalyst to the big argument. They had had a lot of brawls before, some getting rather violent, yet this seemed to be more important than all the others.  
  
Yet neither of them could figure it out...

* * *

"That was not very smart was it?" asked the male to the female. They were still in a room shrouded in the darkness, with only a sphere to cast a light. The sphere showed two men arguing, "That boy with the Vision is rather defensive wouldn't you say?"  
  
"His name is Aragorn you twit, and that other one is Legolas," muttered the girl languidly. She was not peering into the sphere as her companion was, "What is happening now?" asked the girl to the boy.  
  
"You do realize that to attain that information, you must look into the sphere!" His voice was rather irate from the sound of it.  
  
"Yes, I indeed do realize that, yet why bother when you are already watching," answered the woman, "Are you not capable of recapping the situation for me?" The man groaned in annoyance and slightly laughed. He brushed it off and complied with her wishes. He continued watching the sphere.  
  
"They are still fighting," announced the man, "Oh wait, their professor, has approached them. He seems to have noticed the disappearance of Sir Elrond," He gazed at his companion queerly, "You would not happen to have any idea of the whereabouts of Sir Elrond, would you?" asked the boy suspiciously.  
  
Pale white teeth shone in the darkness, "Destiny is unprepared to reveal any information relating to that matter," answered the woman curtly, "I am restrained to release any answers to you as well."  
  
"I would have figured that much," he grumbled angrily, "They have gone their separate ways after that slight encounter with Sir Mithrandir," reported the man, "Whom should I follow Aragorn or Legolas?"  
  
"You may shut it off now."  
  
He groaned, but expunged the moving images away, "Are you planning anything?" he asked her askance, yet she remained shiftily silent. He cried in frustration, "Fine! If you are not going to answer me, I shall alter the topic to your liking!" He heard a slight snigger from her end of the room, "This little spat between Aragorn, and Legolas, will it be any sort of impediment?"  
  
"The scenario itself is inexorable," blandly, she spoke to him, "Lest their pugnacious ways be altered from the times of yore. As congenial as they may be with one another, their eye levels are not on the same plane."  
  
He shook his head in petulance, "By literally paraphrasing that they do not see eye to eye, you have completely lost the point of the maxim itself!" He fumed good-naturedly at the mordant girl.  
  
"There is no animation when an old axiom is stated over and over again with no change to it," the girl protested half-heartedly, "The song remains sound, yet the lyrics are merely altered to my liking!"  
  
"And yet the message it portrays changes..."  
  
"Only to your chagrin..."

* * *

The day wore on mercilessly, as it seemed to Aragorn. He had encountered Boromir and Eomer after his row with Legolas, yet he remained silent about the dream he had, yet he mentioned that he and Legolas had a verbal brawl. They silently reassured Aragorn that they would walk with him, having known Aragorn at a longer period than Legolas. Although neither Boromir nor Eomer wished to commit to any side, Aragorn had approached them first, thus their loyalties had to align with Aragorn's for the time being.  
  
Lunch soon came, and the three had met up with each other by Boromir's locker. Eomer who was the last to arrive spoke as they walked on to the lunch room; "Apparently Legolas is going to be eating with Haldir, Elladan, and Elrohir..." He shot Aragorn a quizzical scowl, "Why can't you just tell us why you are fighting?"  
  
Aragorn didn't answer. He jammed his hands into his pockets and walked a foot or so ahead of the two of them. Boromir and Eomer exchanged glances then shrugged, "Speaking of which, Eowyn is going to be here tomorrow," added Eomer, talking mostly to Boromir.  
  
"I suppose that Faramir is going to be schooling here tomorrow as well, yet I am not too certain." He gave Eomer a wry grin, "You had not better let this information about Eowyn to leak out into the ears of that Wormtongue. He'd seize the opportunity and strangle it to his advantage." Boromir knew full well the reaction he would receive from the disgruntled, overprotective brother.  
  
"I was trying to forget about Wormtongue," Eomer's voice was coated with mock threat. He then added with his voice lathered with sarcasm and hinted with a bit of petulance, "Thank you for reminding me..."  
  
Boromir falsified his voice with feign innocence, "You know me, ever the caring soul..."  
  
With that remark Aragorn let out a startling snort. The comedic timing seemed so right that Aragorn could not pass up the chance, "If you are a caring soul, then I'm an alcoholic domnoddy!" sniggered Aragorn. He pivoted to face them, yet his expression became serious, "Listen, I'm sorry for being a jerk about all this..."  
  
"Don't bother," Eomer waved his hand flippantly, "We're already used to you being a jerk, it's like we're used to Boromir being an idiot..."  
  
"Hey!" the third of the party protested.  
  
Aragorn made equal the pace of their strides, "So, you were saying that Eowyn is to start her schooling here tomorrow?" he asked Eomer casually, recalling what he had said not even a few moments ago.  
  
"Yes, and I suppose she is looking forward to it," Eomer shrugged, "She never really did like her old school that much, and I am hoping that she adjusts to this old wreck of a school much better than she did at the other one."  
  
"You're probably going to pound any kid who says otherwise," ribbed Boromir. Aragorn gave a slight cough that sounded strangely like 'Grima.' Eomer gave Boromir a scowl, yet there was a hypocritical demeanor to his expression.  
  
"Right, and you are going to let every kid step on your little brother," retorted Eomer.  
  
"Are you kidding?! Any kid who so much as looks at Faramir funny will either be put on the Stretcher or in the Iron Maiden!" Boromir cackled sadistically. Aragorn and Eomer exchanged uneasy glances. It was known that Boromir's family owned a grand estate. It was old and had quite a lot of history to it. Past lineage of theirs had been in very high power and was supposedly permitted to persecuting those who offended them. The estate was quite vast and the brothers were forbidden to explore some parts of it, yet Faramir had done some research and it was said that a few of their predecessors did have some sort of torture chamber, both were quite sure that some of the morbid items were hidden away through the myriad or corridors and rooms...  
  
"As much as I love to see you two express your brotherly love," Aragorn drawled dryly, "We have some lunch to eat..."  
  
They walked into the lunch room and walked straight to the short line for lunch. It did not take long for them to get their food and reach the table they usually sat at, "Hmm..." Boromir began, scanning the crowd, "Where do you suppose Legolas is? Haldir and the twins are not in the lunch room." He shot a nervous glance at Aragorn, "Err...sorry man," He gave a feeble chuckle.  
  
Aragorn shook his head, "I don't really care," he admitted, "You don't have to be mad at Legolas for my sake. The conflict is between him and I, and I don't want to drag you down with me," said Aragorn, trying to keep his cool demeanor, "Anyway, he's just a manicured transvestite..." He mumbled the last part to himself.  
  
As if on cue, the lunch room doors swung open noisily and in stepped two noisy twins. They were dramatically reenacting some event that happened during their classes. Haldir was right behind them, laughing heartily, and Legolas slowly followed, not as boisterous as his companions. They got their food and headed to another table. Legolas glazed his eyes over the usual table he sat at and the people who were there, yet he skipped past Aragorn.  
  
"You do realize that we think this is all stupid, right?" asked Boromir, tentatively.  
  
"Not surprisingly..."

* * *

Classes had soon ended, and the students filed out of the school eagerly. Legolas had quite a lot of returned paperwork, and was pleased to see that he had gotten very pleasing results. He was in no hurry to return to home, yet he did not wish to linger long either.  
  
Once he reached the outer grounds of the campus he found Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn heading off to their car. Boromir and Eomer were still there. Legolas ran up to them, seeing no reason that forbade him to speak with them, "Boromir, Eomer," he called, making known his presence.  
  
"Hey Legolas," answered Eomer, acknowledging his presence. He and Boromir had somewhat hesitant expressions, "So, you are speaking to us?"  
  
"Well obviously," mumbled Legolas, "Has Aragorn forbidden you to speak to me?" his voice was filled with sarcasm. It wasn't uncommon for there to be a little spat between Aragorn and Legolas, both had equally strong opinions and enjoyed voicing out what they believed in, but usually Eomer or Boromir would have been informed on what the argument was about.  
  
"No, he has no hold over us," answered Boromir, acting indignant, "Anyway, he called you a transvestite..." he chortled shortly afterwards. The three had begun walking off farther away from the noisy mass of students.  
  
"Hmm...He's grown far too fond of that word," muttered Legolas. Eomer and Boromir laughed.  
  
"I suppose that you aren't going to tell us a word about what you two were arguing about?" asked Boromir, yet already knowing the answer.  
  
"Of course not, yet I doubt that it was a very big matter," Legolas reconsidered his words, "Well, I suppose that to myself the matter wasn't big enough to stressed over, yet to Aragorn, I suppose that I struck a few nerves, unintentionally though."  
  
"So, what I gather here is that Aragorn had said something, and then you said something else that probably contradicted what he had said, and then the two of you began arguing over who was right or wrong..." presumed Eomer, "It usually happens this way, doesn't it?"  
  
"Scarily enough, you are actually correct. It did go somewhat like that," Legolas answered in a murmur. The three boys had gone on into a different talk. The topic had been changed when Boromir told Legolas that his brother and Eomer's sister would start their schooling tomorrow. Since the three weren't expected at home right away, they had spent an hour or so wandering around the school grounds and talking aimlessly.  
  
Yet soon the time came for them to return to their homes. They found their rides home and said goodbye.  
  
Legolas sighed as he entered the car. He leaned back into his seat, closed his eyes, and let out a huge groan. The driver in front of him shot him a hesitant glance, "Sir Legolas, are you alright?"  
  
His back shot upright immediately, remembering that he was not alone in the car, "I am fine. I am only weary from the day's work." Fibbed Legolas; hoping that the driver didn't know him well enough to see that he was lying.  
  
"Alright then Sir," replied the driver and he continued on with his motorist ways. Legolas sighed softly and waited as the car drove past the lackluster scenery.

* * *

The car drove into our estate and up to my house. I dismissed the driver and trudged up to my room. Father wouldn't be here most likely, he was either to come late at home or to be locked up in his study, yet I supposed that I was used to it already.  
  
It wasn't that he was an ignorant father. On the contrary he was an excellent father when I spent time with him, yet those times weren't that common these days. Apparently he had a sizeable investment in a project that wasn't going very well...  
  
The night was falling and supper was to happen soon enough. Yet I was not hungry. It seemed that I was never hungry. I felt that at times I could last days without any food, weeks even! But then again I was forbidden to even try to see if I could last that long,  
  
As I swung the door open I dropped my schoolbag near the doorway inside my room and collapsed on my gigantic bed, face first. I let out another groan, only to be muffled by the thick sheets and mattresses.  
  
I pivoted myself around to face at the ceiling. The houses age was noticeable with the many cracks I had found up in the high wall. Staring off into the endless abyss of nothing got me around to thinking.  
  
What Aragorn had said had the slightest possibility of truth. Even if magic does not exist in our culture or civilization that does not mean that there aren't any forms of magic in the others...  
  
It was said that the people of Da'havous had somehow found a way to merge their own reality with their fantasies. Some people have been able to free themselves from the shackles of the known world into their dreams. There were truly some past individuals who had fallen in love with the people they create. There was a definite ceremony for the people, mostly rich, who wished to leave the known world for their own.  
  
Yet Aragorn seemed to be convinced that she was real...Whoever she was... From what I remember, communicating through dreams was a very ancient, forgotten art of some other civilization. And I read it to be rather taxing as well. It was written that an average individual could only communicate through his dreams once a week, twice if the person had excellent resilience, yet Aragorn had been speaking to her nearly every night...  
  
Didn't he say that she spoke to him before the entire dream had occurred?  
  
Such a feat like that would have been even more impressive? There were such people who claimed to have the gift of clairvoyance, although they were regarded as cranks through our people's standards, they were highly respected and glorified in other cultures. This girl, if she was real anyway, must have had some sort of telepathy to allow this. Yet even if she is a telepathist, she too would not be able to speak to Aragorn nearly every night.  
  
I groaned as the thoughts strained my mind. I turned over on my side and gazed the window on the far side of my room, the only thing I could see was nothing. I heard a bell sound from the lower floor, apparently dinner was starting.  
  
But I had no desire to attend. I doubt that my father would either, since his greatest concern these days was his business, which came first rather than his health or even his son. Yet I wasn't bitter...  
  
I looked up at the ceiling once more. Putting all of my guard down and letting my senses fall. Sleep began consuming me. The intoxication of fantasy was too hard to resist. I closed my eyes and let my subconscious take over...

* * *

"Good Gog, you're an idiot?'  
  
"Huh? What?" My voice was groggy, and my eyes were closed. I was lying down, yet it was not my bed. It was some hard surface. I opened them only to find darkness surrounding me, yet their seemed to be some sort of spotlight on myself, "What did you just say?" I searched the blackness for some sort of person. Had I been kidnapped?  
  
"Good Gog, you're an idiot," the voice replied calmly.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked brusquely, regaining control over my senses. I stood up waveringly, yet regained my composure. I put on my most courageous demeanor, yet it seemed useless since I had no idea of what was happening.  
  
"I am afraid that I cannot tell you."  
  
"First encounters usually mandate first introductions, otherwise those two people would get horrid first impressions," I muttered, feeling rather foolish talking to someone currently intangible.  
  
"I do not care for how you perceive me Thranduilion."  
  
I was shocked; apparently this voice knew who I was. "You know who I am?" I asked, regretting it instantly. I knew how much stupidity went into that question. It was extremely evident that this 'person' knew me.  
  
"Apparently so."  
  
I glared at the nothingness around me. I stayed silent for some moments, recollecting the recently past events. As I thought, a new thought arose. "Why am I an idiot?" I snapped at the open air.  
  
"For someone who appears to be smart, you are rather slow, aren't you?" the voice responded evenly, "Your idiocy was proven just some hours ago. If it was not idiocy, it was indeed some narrow-mindedness."  
  
"What are you talking about?" I had a growing suspicion of what it was though.  
  
"You have read countless books on magic and mythology. You have studied ancient scrolls of fallen civilizations and you have researched endlessly on the different customs and cultures. You have been living your fantasy in the past," before I could cut in, the voice continued, "You realize that most magic no longer exists in your world. You have come to accept that fact, in fact you believe it wholly, even if you do hope that one day you might discover some," the voice held a reasonable pause, "And yet when the Son of Arathorn, who is gifted with the vision, approaches you about his problems. You stagger, casting the blame on the subconscious."  
  
My mouth was agape, but I quickly recovered, "It is not like that!" I snapped angrily, "I am almost certain that it is impossible for Aragorn to communicate with that woman, whoever she is! It is a long forgotten art, and the physical weariness Aragorn would go through would be enough to kill him if it was true!"  
  
"You cabbageheaded domnoddy," the voice insulted me in the same relaxed voice, "The method you had read about was only one of the several. There are other ways for those who do not have the gift of extrasensory perception, such as the Method of Tybastuss or even the Method of Granmelch, only to name a few of course."  
  
"So you are saying that Aragorn had indeed been speaking to some actual woman?" I asked incredulously, all the information was hard to digest, "How do I know if what you say is even true?" I challenged.  
  
"This is a dream. And you are soon to wake up."  
  
My eyes widened in surprise once more, "Then this is all folly! What you have said is not real! This is just the subconscious playing games in my sleep this isn't real!" I screamed into the darkness, the little light I had began to fade slowly.  
  
"If this were all a game of your subconscious, then you would not still have that bruise, not would you be holding a bow in your hand and have an arrow pierced through your leg when you wake."  
  
"I don't have a-"

* * *

"Legolas! Legolas!" a voice called me, shaking me from my sleep. I looked up to see the concerned face of my father, along with many of our helpers. They were crowding around my bed, yet when I awoke they took some paces back. My father helped pull me to a sitting position. Apparently, I had gotten under the sheets of my bed.  
  
I looked in horror as I found my pristine white sheets stained with a dark red, "My son," my father looked at me with grave concern, "When I arrived at your room, I found this," One of their helpers brought forth an arrow, its tip stained with blood, "imbedded into your left thigh, and that in your hand." He pointed to my right hand. With a wave of his hand, all the other people in the room dispersed.  
  
I looked over to my hand and my mouth dropped once more. It was a bow, a wooden longbow. My grip on it had been so strong, so numbing, that I could not feel it, "Your hand was clasped tightly around it," My father kneaded my hand in a fatherly manner. The feeling returned to my hand gradually, "What had happened?"  
  
"I...I don't know Father," I murmured, knowing full well what had happened, "I don't remember anything from last night, excluding the fact that I fell asleep as soon as I had reached home. I don't recall waking up in the middle of my slumber either." My voice was faltering, not because of my shock, but because of the fact that I wasn't the most skilled liar. Luckily, my lack of skills paid of somehow.  
  
"Sir Thranduil, you wished to see us?" Two of the security guards of their estate entered my room.  
  
"Yes, of course, regarding the estate's security," Before he went to leave, he faced me once more, "Legolas, son, if there is anything at all you wish to tell me, you have my permission to break down the hall of my study when I haul myself inside there."  
  
I nodded silently. He pecked me on the head and went of to discuss the security of the estate outside of my room. I was left inside, though I was not along. I had all my blasted thoughts to keep me company.  
  
The voice was right. The voice had been telling me the truth. Aragorn had been telling the truth... I truly was a fool... I had indeed been narrow-minded. Magic was an impressive factor in other cultures yet not in ours, but I had quickly dismissed the fact when it was right there in Aragorn. My hand flew to my cheek, there was no numbing pain. I reached for the mirror on my bedside table; the blackish-blue discoloration was gone.  
  
I looked to my side, there was the longbow. I picked it up and scrutinized it. It was simple enough. The only titivation was the thin, twisting gilder of gold that went from the top to the bottom. It was of fine craftsmanship though.  
  
I held the bow through both of my hands, enjoying the feel of the polished wood. I had always been dreadfully interested in archery, yet I did not like the bows they offered to me. There were far too many modifications and complicated technologies. I wanted a simple bow, not those fancy metal ones with all that technology to make things easier. In my opinion they only complicate it all. Instead I took up marksmanship with a shooting rifle.  
  
I wanted a bow like this, if I was ever to take up archery. The rifle was all well and good, yet somehow the notion of actually drawing the bowstring and feeling the arrow fly from your grasp reminded me of the past, where my eccentricity today would seem natural before.  
  
I motioned to get out of my bed, yet when I tried to stand upright there was a sharp pain in my leg. Of course, it was the arrow wound. I looked at my leg. There was a makeshift tourniquet, stained with the redness of blood. I grimaced at the pain, but I stood up anyway. I used the longbow to haul me up and it became like some sort of crutch for me. Slowly, I got ready for school...

* * *

"Boromir! Faramir!" their father, Denethor called from the bottom steps of the main staircase, "School is to start in an hour and thirty minutes, and I have to be there in twenty! Hurry up!" As if on cue, his younger son, Faramir, came shooting down the stairs.  
  
His hair was neatly combed and any loose strands were held back by some invisible hair gel. He wore some sort of black jacket, which was straight, unwrinkled, and buttoned up. Underneath the jacket was a white, buttoned up shirt. His pants were black as well, and they were pressed straight to the bottom. His shoes, black of course, were polished with great care, as if he had spent the night working on them. He looked like he was ready for some sort of business meeting.  
  
"Faramir, where is your brother?" asked Denethor, eyeing his watch impatiently, "Boromir!"  
  
"Last I checked he was in the bathroom," answered Faramir, picking up his satchel on the floor, "He told me that he would be down in three minutes or so." Denethor let out an exasperated groan.  
  
"I have a very important meeting with Galadriel, Thranduil, and Theoden!" muttered Denethor, pacing neurotically, "Boromir!"  
  
A clomping sound of trudging feet caused Denethor to look up the stair case. There was his eldest son, practically slouching down the steps. He showed a much greater contrast when compared to his brother's decorum...  
  
His hair was in an upheaval. The usual unruliness seemed to be multiplied by his groggy stagger. His eyes were half closed and there were light rings of grey beneath them. His clothes hung loosely around his body. His simple tee shirt had a yellow splotch on it and he wore a worn brown leather jacket. His pants were denim and there was a long rip near the knee. The bottoms of the pants were sullied by dirt and soil. His shoes were caked with dried mud. His beaten up backpack hung loosely over his shoulder.  
  
"At last, son!" cried Denethor, waving his suit case in the air, "Let's go!" The three men entered the car and Denethor drove off in haste. They reached the school parking lot in a matter of minutes, teetering within the speed limit.  
  
The three exited the car and Denethor faced his sons, "Faramir, hopefully you will have a nice first day and Boromir guide your brother so that he doesn't make a blunder." With that he bade them farewell, "Goodbye sons!" And he dashed off towards the school were his meeting was about to commence.  
  
Faramir sighed as he walked towards his brother, "So, how horrible is this place? I mean you rant on and on at home, but what is the truth!" He had a languid look on his face, which made him look older. The clothes that he wore didn't help make him any younger as well.  
  
Boromir eyed his younger brother wryly, "Well, they'd you out if you went in dressed like that!" He pointed to his brother's pedantic attire.  
  
"What's wrong with how I dress?" he asked defensively, scanning over his clothes, "I wanted to look good on the first day!"  
  
"Well, if you're my brother you're going to have to loosen up!" Boromir ginned sadistically, "What kind of girl would want to go out with some kid pretending to be a prudish old man?" With that he began to work on Faramir, much to his brother's chagrin. Boromir ruffled up Faramir's hair, removing whatever he had put in it, making the dark strands become unruly. He unbuttoned Faramir's black jacket and tossed it aside. He reached into his stuffed bag and put out a black leather one, "Here, were this and change into this when we get inside," He handed his brother the jacket and a black shirt, which seemed to have a lot of lint in it. "I suppose your pants will do, but we have to get some wrinkles into them." He scrutinized his brother.  
  
"Since when have you been a fashion consultant?" asked Faramir, not enjoying this one bit, but knowing full well that if he resisted, Boromir would put him into a headlock until he gave in. Boromir continued shuffling through his bag, searching for something, "You had really come prepared for this, haven't you?"  
  
"You know me well Brother," muttered Boromir, "As I knew that you would dress up all stuffily for the first day. Here," Boromir handed Faramir a pair of sneakers, "Give me those old people shoes now." Faramir rolled his eyes as he unlaced the shoe's laces and handed them to Boromir. He put the sneakers on; they were actually quite comfortable, "Hmm..." Boromir studied his brother once more, "You still look too clean, maybe if I throw some dirt at you..."  
  
"No!" protested Faramir hastily, swatting his brother away, "You wouldn't dare do that!"  
  
"Your right," laughed Boromir, "I wouldn't want to sully my hands, now would I?" He inspected his brother for the final time, and gave him a contrived, sad look, "My Wittle Faramir! All grown up and going to high school," Boromir promptly let out a bawling cry, unable to hide his grin, "Soon all the ladies will be chasing you and you'll finally realize that there's more to life than books and research!"  
  
"Are women the only thing you think about?"  
  
"Of course not!" protested Boromir, "But haven't you ever been on a date," Boromir paused after his question, then immediately went into fits of laughter, "Why am I asking?" he howled with mirth, "Of course, baby brother Faramir has never asked a girl out! He's too afraid!" crowed Boromir, clearly enjoying himself, "After all, his dear big brother got all the family charm!"  
  
"You're as charming as a walrus's backside," retorted Faramir, "And it isn't that I am afraid! It is just that I am not interested in any of the girls I met in there! They all seemed so superficial and contrived! I don't care if I have many women or not! I just want one who isn't like all the other shallow women you seem to be so fond of..."  
  
"That was actually profound in some sort of way," admitted Boromir, "I suppose that you are right Brother, but I will come to realize and digest what you had just said in a few years or so. I may not be as articulate with my words as you are, but I do intend to enjoy myself while I am still young, unlike my priggish little brother!"  
  
"Well I just don't want to date anyone yet, alright!" fumed Faramir. They had reached the steps to the main building and soon enough they entered through the swinging doors of the high school building. Boromir expected Faramir to be in awe, but the boy just shrugged, "It looks a lot like junior high..." commented Faramir.  
  
"Oh come on!" cried Boromir, but then he studied the long corridor, realizing that his brother was right, "Well, look how the walls are painted! Back in junior high the walls were white with like a yellow tint in it, but now the walls are white with a green tint!"  
  
Faramir raised an eyebrow towards Boromir's direction, "And you call me pathetic?"  
  
"Being the older brother I get those privileges."  
  
"Yeah, and since I am the younger brother I am supposed to have the privilege of squealing to Dad, but since I do not get that privilege, it cancels out your privileges," retorted Faramir dryly, yet Boromir knew that there was some bitterness within all his cynical mirth.  
  
"Hey, sorry Faramir," apologized Boromir openly, and sincerely as well.  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry about Older Brother," Faramir's voice became noticeably soft. There was a lingering silence that wafted over their heads, it was not that they were in discomfort; it was that neither had a thing to speak of. But Boromir broke the quiet with his thick voice.  
  
"So, what are you supposed to do first?" asked Boromir.  
  
"Well, Father had told me that I was supposed to go to the Principal's Office for some sort of orientation or whatever," responded his brother, "Where is the Principal's Office, anyway?" he asked his brother.  
  
"I'll bring you there," he told his brother, and he led his brother through the hallways and corridors and they had reached the Principal's Office, a place Boromir which had Boromir has a frequent visitor. Galadriel's secretary, Bilbo Baggins, Frodo Baggins's uncle, was there reading some sort of book, "Hello Sir Bilbo, my brother, Faramir, is new here. Our father said that he would have to stop here for some sort of orientation from Lady Galadriel."  
  
"Well yes of course," he was a stunted man, much shorter than both Boromir and Faramir, "Faramir was it? I am Bilbo Baggins; call me whatever you like, disregarding anything insulting of course..." He glanced at Boromir who was grinning sheepishly, "Hopefully your tongue isn't as brutally honest as your brother's," Bilbo shot Boromir a mockingly superior glare. "Just wait over there," he pointed to a row of three cushioned seats, "The Lady Galadriel is in a meeting with Sir Theoden and your father, methinks."  
  
"Alright Sir," replied Boromir politely, but unable to hide his awkward look. He then turned to Faramir, "Is it alright if I leave you here?" He was and forever would be the overprotective older brother, just as Eomer had been, yet Boromir should it in a more subtly manner.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be fine," answered Faramir, silently thanking his brother for helping him along the rocky path, "I will see you later right?"  
  
"We'll probably have the same classes, kid," grinned Boromir, soaking up every fact that he was older with great relish, even if their age gap didn't give him much of a right to call Faramir 'kid.'  
  
"See you later than Boromir..." Faramir waved his brother goodbye as Boromir exited the Principal's Office. He walked over to one of the cushions and plopped down on it, dropping his school bag in the seat next to his. He glanced towards his side to find Bilbo, deeply engrossed into his book and scribbling down notes into this ragged piece of tissue paper.  
  
The surroundings, though foreign to him, were pleasingly different from Junior High. To him, this was a whole new, different place. It seemed, in fact, that Boromir knew his way around this vast building adroitly. It was both exciting, yet nerve racking at one fell swoop. He felt a soft fabric in his hands, realizing that he was still holding the shirt Boromir gave him. He shook his head and just stuffed it into his satchel.  
  
How far Boromir would go for his little brother was a distance that surely would have been immeasurable. Even if he did not openly express his feelings, Faramir had always known that Boromir would be his anchor. Faramir feared the day when his older brother may tire of him and desert him completely, though it was not that Faramir depended wholly on Boromir's capabilities.  
  
It was that he depended on the certainty of his brother's love...

* * *

"Theodred, Eomer, Eowyn," Theoden called hastily, he shot his watch a harried glance, "Have a nice day at school! Eomer, take care of your sister, and Eowyn I especially wish you great luck on your first day, but I have to get going. I'm late for a meeting!"  
  
"Goodbye Father," called Theodred as his father bolted to the main building from the parking lot, "See you guys later. Eowyn I hope you have a nice day, and don't worry, if Eomer doesn't fulfill his brotherly duties, you can always run to me!" He grinned cheekily and began walking off. Although the three relatives were very close, Theodred traveled with another group of friends.  
  
"Oh please, Theodred!" retorted Eowyn good-naturedly, "How could you ever think that Eomer would pass up the opportunity to scare away any strange-looking person who'd come within ten feet of me?"  
  
"Oh yeah, I forgot that he had the overbearing, overprotective, older brother complex," snickered Theodred, he was some feet away from them already, "Bye guys! Eomer take care of Eowyn or else!" With that he sprang and headed for the building.  
  
Once he was gone Eomer faced Eowyn, "So, are you nervous Little Sister?" asked Eomer with all the brotherly love he could muster.  
  
"Of course, I'd be lying to you if I said otherwise," She fidgeted slightly, very uncommon from her, "But I can't help, but feel exited and-"  
  
"Great!" Eomer cut her curtly, "But since you are my little sister, you'll have some ground rules to follow," said Eomer in all seriousness. Eowyn gaped at her brother, checking to see if he was kidding, but it was clear that he wasn't, "First of all, boys," before Eowyn could interject, Eomer continued on, "If you are interested in any boy in that school, he'll have to talk to me first. I have to make sure that anyone going out with my sister isn't a psychotic lunatic!"  
  
"Eomer, I am not as inclined to the opposite sex as you are," muttered Eowyn, pushing her brother forward as they headed towards the building.  
  
Eomer ignored her and continued on with his blathering, "Next of all, if there are any people, any people at all, who are bothering you or...stalking you, just let me know so that I can beat the crap out of them!"  
  
"Oh yeah," Eowyn bit her lip fretfully, "Wormtongue, he studies here right?" Her forehead creased in worry, "I don't want to see him again..."  
  
"And you won't have to," Eomer said firmly, yet affectionately. He put an arm over her shoulders and gave her a one-armed hug, "The guys and I will make sure that Wormtongue, and all the other weirdoes out there stay away from you!"  
  
"Are your ground rules finished yet?"  
  
"Pretty much, until something else comes to my attention though," shrugged Eomer; he ruffled his little sister's hair warmly, "Don't worry they'll love you," He added as an afterthought, "Okay, if the guys saw me, they'd never let me hear the end of it..."  
  
Eowyn let out a laugh, "You're just a big softie inside, and you know it!" She pinched her brother's cheek affectionately.  
  
"Hey! Don't do that!" complained Eomer as he swatted her hands away. She snickered at him and the two reached the building's swinging doors, "Anyway, what do you have to do first? You have to go to the Principal or something, right?"  
  
"Yeah, Uncle said something like that. Is Lady Galadriel anything like my old principal?" asked Eowyn curiously. Her old principal, Sir Oneas DeMercia, was a gravely strict teacher. His punishments were infamous and spoken only through hushed words.  
  
"She can be strict, but I suppose that she's an okay lady. Most of the teachers in this place are pretty much like that. They may seem really strict and kind of scary at time, but you can talk to them easy enough when you aren't in your classes." Eomer smiled at his sister and she returned the grin weakly, "Come on, I'll take you to the Principal's Office."  
  
He led her past the halls and the few students that had arrived earlier than usual. Eomer made sure to skirt the corridors that he was certain Wormtongue would be lurking in. After only some minutes they were there, "I can go in myself Big Brother," reassured Eowyn. She gave her brother a more realistic smile, to show that she could handle herself, but inside she was blanching.  
  
"Really?" asked Eomer with genuine concern. She nodded enthusiastically to hide her anxiety. Eomer gave her a pensive, apprehensive look, knowing his sister well enough. But then he got a wry expression on his face, "Great, I didn't really want to go in anyway. Lady Galadriel might've found out that I tinkered with some of the clocks..." He smiled as she laughed and gave her one more hug, "I'll see you later, and don't you dare tell anyone that I hug you!" He threatened her lightly.  
  
When he released her, she gave him a fake punch, "Thanks Eomer. I'll look for you later..."  
  
He gave one final wave, turned on his heel and set off. He turned the corner and he was out of eyeshot. Eowyn sighed and let the doubts and worries fly through her head once more. But then she shook her head to rid herself of them and faced the door.  
  
She put her hand on the brass doorknob and twisted it slowly...

* * *

Faramir was stuck there waiting, on the cushion seat. Probably twenty minutes had passed and Lady Galadriel, or any other person for that matter, hadn't entered through the door. The Secretary, Bilbo Baggins was too deeply engrossed with his book to give Faramir a second glance.  
  
The door gave a small creak and Faramir had been jostled out of his thoughts. He had jerked from his seat and apparently Bilbo had given notice to it as well, "What? Oh yes, come in!" he called to whoever was behind the other end of the door.  
  
Another creak sounded and the door began to slide open. Faramir watched as the door opened wider and a foot stepped out, soon to be followed by a body and a head of long golden hair. It was a girl, and judging from her uneasy smile, she was new as well.  
  
"Hello there," greeted Bilbo, "You must be new here! I am Bilbo Baggins, Lady Galadriel's Secretary. You may call me Sir Bilbo or Mister Baggins, whatever you see fit," He smiled at her and she returned the gesture, "The Lady is not here yet, you may take a seat." He pointed to three cushioned seats, one of which was occupied by Faramir, and the other occupied by his schoolbag. As he swung his hand, he swiped the book of the table and the bookmarks, and notes inserted in it scattered on the floor, "Oh dear," he immediately went to pick them up. When Faramir and the girl motioned to help him, he declined, "No, no, no... It is alright, I'm just a bit muddled today," He then glanced at the girl, "What did you say your name was?"  
  
The girl took the only remaining chair and smiled at Bilbo, "I didn't, but my name is Eowyn, Sir Bilbo."  
  
Bilbo did not reply, but he gave her a pleasant nodded and continued on shuffling through the mess of tissue and scratch paper. Eowyn glanced at the boy who was a seat away from her, "Excuse me, do you mind if I put my bag here too?" She asked him cautiously.  
  
Faramir had been watching Bilbo, trying to restrain from laughing, but his head snapped around when he heard her voice, "Of course! Of course," replied Faramir. He made room for her bag in the chair, "My name is Faramir. I am new here too." He held out his hand after his introduction.  
  
"Eowyn," She smiled as she shook his hand, "I was hoping that you weren't new so that you could tell me more of this school." said Eowyn after she had let go of his hand, "My brother and cousin were very vague when they told me of this place."  
  
"My older brother was like that as well," replied Faramir, "The pep talk he gave me right before I arrived at the building wasn't very encouraging," Faramir remarked dryly. Surprisingly enough, the girl laughed.  
  
"I know exactly what you mean," She shook her head with mirth, hoping that she had actually found her first friend. Back in her old school, she wasn't exactly the most popular girl, "My brother had given me some ground rules and put on his overprotective face."  
  
Faramir smiled at the girl. There was something so brutally honest, yet sensitively sympathetic at the same time, about this girl, "That's how older siblings are supposed to act," muttered Faramir dryly.  
  
"Yes, but my brother is simply the worst, do you-" She clamped her hands to her mouth and glanced at Faramir tentatively, "Forgive me for my candor... I should not be slandering my brother in front of some person I had just met. I wouldn't want you to think the worst of him even before you meet him. He is truly a nice person, if not a bit overbearing at times," she gave him a weak grin in apprehension.  
  
"Don't worry," he reassured, patting her chair's armrest, "I vilify my brother a lot of times as well. What else can we do? We are the younger siblings; we have a right to complain about our older brothers, even if mine would put me in a headlock if he had found about it."  
  
Eowyn let out a short snicker, "Thank you for understanding the true horrors of-"  
  
She was cut short by the door abruptly opening. Eowyn's eyes hardened when she saw who stepped in...

* * *

Legolas limped up to his locker and found Aragorn, standing in front of his own. Legolas took in a deep breath and grasped his cane tighter, realizing that apologizing was harder than it really seemed, "Hello Aragorn," greeted Legolas, making sure that his voice wasn't too curt.  
  
Aragorn glanced quickly at him and his face acquired a stony resemblance, "Legolas," he replied. Legolas winced as the brusqueness of his voice. Aragorn continued skimming through his locker and he ran his hand through his disheveled hair, making it even more disorderly. He refused to make eye contact with Legolas.  
  
"Listen Aragorn," Legolas took a step closer, but as he did, a black, greasy-smelling blur barreled through him, "Wormtongue!" yelled Legolas in frustration.  
  
"I am in a hurry Thranduilion!" snapped the overbearingly oily student. He picked himself up and scuttled away, "You should watch were you put forth your gigantic feet!" drawled Wormtongue, he hitched up those grimy, black cloaks he always wore and then he bolted off.  
  
"Lousy, good for nothing, dunderheaded pig's bottom..." He trailed off, remembering the real reason of his presence at that moment, "Listen Aragorn," he began once more, fidgeting with his cane, "I thought about what you had said to me the day before, and I came to realize some things."  
  
"Such as?" asked Aragorn, still refusing to look at him, apparently Legolas had really struck a huge nerve within Aragorn to get him as mad as he was at the moment. Legolas winced at his coldness once more.  
  
"Perhaps I had dismissed the idea too early," admitted Legolas, "I don't have the widest knowledge about these areas that what you spoke of revolve around. But there are some theories I found that would probably explain why you have been having these dreams."  
  
"So, you are admitting to me that she truly is real?"  
  
"It is a huge possibility," shrugged Legolas, "I suppose that I was too brash about the fact that I said that it was impossible. Just understand that I was trying to remain as logical as possible."  
  
"I understand what you are saying and I understand as well that I am at fault as well," Aragorn lowered his head into his locker, "I know it was wrong for me to force you to believe in what I was saying when it went against your own principals. I am sorry for that Legolas..."  
  
Aragorn turned around slowly with a grin on his face. He put his left hand on Legolas's right shoulder. It was their usual greeting, Aragorn would place his left hand on Legolas's right shoulder and he would do the same, yet this time he did not, "Thank you Legolas. What made you change your mind?" But then Aragorn became puzzled when Legolas did not bring his hand up to his shoulder.  
  
"Sorry Aragorn," Legolas motioned to his hand which lay on the wooden cane.  
  
"What happened to you?" Aragorn asked, perhaps with a hint of concern in his voice.  
  
Legolas obtained a sheepish look on his face, "I had a dream..."

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Eowyn asked the newcomer icily. Bilbo paid no attention, too lost in his book, and his desk was some distance away from where they sat. Faramir glanced at the character that stood in front of him, simply oblivious to whom he was, though it was apparent that Eowyn knew.  
  
"Eowyn," the other boy's voice seemed to be lathered with slipperiness, as he walked towards the chairs, "So, it is indeed true... You have transferred here," Faramir scrutinized the boy. His back was slightly bent and his clothes seemed to have been used repeatedly without wash. His hair was dark, yet extremely stringy and seemingly oily enough to set his head on fire. His face was tinted by a sickly shade of green and there was some sort of maniacal glint in his flinty eyes.  
  
"Wormtongue, my brother will hunt you down if you come any closer to me," threatened Eowyn, her voice was clipped, and she hid her panging fear well, "Go away and never even think of me again! I will not have my days darkened by your presence."  
  
"Eowyn?" murmured Faramir quietly, facing the girl tentatively. She glanced at Faramir quickly, but then forced her eyes down to the floor.  
  
"Who is this boy Eowyn?" hissed the other man in the room, aside from Bilbo and Faramir, who was apparently called Wormtongue, "Is he one of your brother's little friends?" Faramir raised an eyebrow at Wormtongue's rather boorish behavior, "He seems rather ungainly, wouldn't you say?" Faramir had to hold in a snort and a snide comeback.  
  
"Go away Wormtongue! I shall tell my brother, my cousin, and my uncle if your refuse to leave!" snapped Eowyn, refusing to raise her voice any higher, "You have no right to speak to me and my company in this manner!"  
  
"Eowyn," Wormtongue said once more as he advanced his steps towards Eowyn and placed a deathly pale hand on Eowyn's own hands. She recoiled at his touch, yet he had a firm grasp on her hand before she could pull away, "I have longed to see you again... I have longed to see your beauty..." His other hand rose up slowly and reached to brush her cheek.  
  
"Stop it!" resisted Eowyn, trying to wrench her two hands free from his cold, rough grasp, and jerk her head out of the reach of his other hand, "I said stop it!" she repeated, snapping a bit louder.  
  
Yet at that moment, Wormtongue gave a high-pitched yell. His roaming hand had been caught by Faramir, and he was obviously gripping it tightly. Eowyn could hear the bones creaking, "You insolent fool!" spat Wormtongue, "Who do you think you are?"  
  
"Who do you think you are harassing a woman who clearly does not want a thing to do with you," hissed Faramir in a calm, yet deadly voice. He released his hold on Wormtongue's hand and jerked the other one of Eowyn's hands, "You will respect Eowyn's wishes and never bother her again!"  
  
Wormtongue glared at both Faramir and Eowyn. Yet moments after his menacing gaze he turned on his heel and hastily trudged out of the room. Only then did Bilbo notice him, "Oh hello there Grima. I didn't see you come in..." greeted Bilbo, only to have the door abruptly slammed shut. Bilbo looked slightly appalled. He faced Faramir and Eowyn, "Strange boy, and rather rude as well," Bilbo sniffed disapprovingly, "It wouldn't hurt if he took a shower as well..." With a laugh he returned to his books.  
  
Regarding what had happened, Eowyn and Faramir did not laugh at what Bilbo had said. Faramir glanced at Eowyn tentatively, "Are you alright," He looked over her hands. They were only a swollen red, yet there were no signs of any bruises.  
  
"I am fine, thank you for helping me out," she flashed him a genuine, appreciative smile.  
  
"Who was that?" asked Faramir quietly, hoping not to disgruntle her, after all they had only just met a few minutes ago.  
  
Eowyn sighed, her smile faltering, "He is just an incessantly dark reminder of my unhappy days before," answered Eowyn, casting her eyes down, but then regaining her sense, "Forgive me for troubling you with my tribulations, as I said awhile ago, we have just met and I don't want to worry about some girl you had just met."  
  
"It does not bother me when I ask a question and I receive an answer," replied Faramir frankly, yet it was smoothed off by a nice mildness, "Though it is alright if you do not wish to speak to me about your problems. You are probably uncomfortable with confiding rather personal things to a person you have barely spent an hour with." He gave her a short smirk and patted her hands lightly.  
  
Eowyn glared good-naturedly at him for his flippant manner, "You are a very logical person Faramir," she smirked at him, "I am sorry for that horrid display you witnessed just awhile ago. Wormtongue used to shadow my steps when he stayed at our estate. I prayed that I would never have to see him again and yet he studies here..."  
  
"Why not complain to your brother?"  
  
"He already knows," answered Eowyn, "I swear, he's beaten Wormtongue up countless of times, but that lunatic can seem to get it through his head to stop! I swear that he is the only person in the entire known world whom I loathe the most!"  
  
"Rather grimy person wasn't he?" stated Faramir, trying to lighten up the strangled mood. He scoffed mockingly, "Where do you suppose he gets off calling me 'ungainly?' If your brother wouldn't beat him up, my brother would jump to the task if he knew..." Eowyn let out a laugh, but it wasn't forced chuckle, it was an undiluted giggle.  
  
"So, your brother has the overbearing, overprotective, older brother complex too, huh?" remarked Eowyn, "Thank you again Faramir, for making me feel better. I just doubled my debt to you." She gave a weak grin.  
  
He smiled at her in response, "I'll remember that in the future..."

* * *

"That kid Wormtongue is slightly maniacal, wouldn't you say?" The boy asked the girl, wanting any form of conversation, and since she was the only other one in the room, he wanted to speak with her.  
  
"Everyone is slightly maniacal, some more than others," she coughed, clearly implying something. The boy shot her a glare that was lost within all the darkness of the room, "Though you must admit that he is very persistent, if not a little thickheaded. Shut the sphere off."  
  
He obliged, as he had always done for her, "That argument seemed to resolve quickly don't you think? Especially since that Legolas fellow had that dream of his," his voice was sardonically accusing, "But wasn't shooting him in the leg a bit too much?"  
  
"Pain is an excellent reminder for reality, even if the reality of reality is hardly real anymore," murmured the girl dismissively, "I suppose that idealists have a much better time than the realists..."  
  
"I suppose that's why you are always so miserable..."  
  
"Yes, I suppose it is..."

* * *

Yeah! I have finally finished the third chapter. So, Legolas and Aragorn's little spat, didn't last very long did it now? Who was the voice speaking to Legolas in his dream? Who exactly are these two other people whose names have yet to be revealed? Where is Elrond? So many questions that I haven't answered yet, even if I sort of have it all planned it my muddled head. Faramir and Eowyn have met each other and had a very unpleasant encounter with one Grima Wormtongue. Overprotective siblings can be a real pain, but a real blessing at times as well. I hope that I am writing them all in character, maybe altering it slightly, but in character nonetheless. Mind you that I was up all night writing this and I'm a real procrastinator mind you... I don't know how I managed to pull this off, but I am glad that I did. I hope that you all enjoyed the story. I will try to update as soon as possible, but I don't know how long you'll have to wait exactly. Heh...Heh... I love my 'heh...hehs...' Have I put them in each chapter? I have no idea, but I will start on the next chapter as soon as I can. I hope that people are actually reading my story, and if you are, don't forget to review! You can criticize my work, I don't mind; just keep in mind how brutal you will be with your words. Do not forget to review!


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